I'm Not A Heart Surgeon
by Castello
Summary: Jim keeps coming to the hospital with injuries and Mario is always the doctor on call. Crack ship post really, but the idea hit me so here we are. (BDSM relationship, unhealthy coping mechanisms, complicated relationships) Once again I'm upset with FF's limited character lists, but this is a Jim Gordon/Mario Falcone fic.
1. Chapter 1

**Crack ship post really, but the idea hit me so here we are. This is also one of the first mainly dialogue pieces I've done and I really enjoyed it. (Even if the likelihood of anybody reading this is low)**

* * *

Mario came into work with a chipper pep in his step. In a little over a week he was going to be marrying one of the kindest women in Gotham, the beautiful and intelligent M.E. of the GCPD, and he was perfectly fine with admitting it was getting to his head just a little. He flew through his first few patients with ease, the bubbly smile he came in with only starting to dwindle down after the seventh or eighth patient to come in with just a minor ache or pain.

When he left the exam room of Mrs. Wergner, a kind, little old lady who came in around once a month thinking she was dying because she was bloated, to ask the nurse for his next assignment, the nurse carefully handed him a new chart, watching hesitantly as he read over the patient basics.

Jim Gordon's name was neatly printed at the top of the paper, because _of course_.

Nothing like having to treat your fiance's _ex fiance_ to really carve away at the happiness of the day.

Bullet graze along the shoulder, some bruises and cuts, mostly just a simple look over. Police standard and all that jazz. It should go by quick and (hopefully) rather painlessly, as long as they avoided talking about Lee... He waved the clipboard at the nurse with sarcastic enthusiasm before turning towards the exam room Jim was waiting in.

"Nice coat, doc." Jim greeted with a falsely cheery grin.

Mario glanced down at the white cover curiously, noticing the bodily fluid spatters over his breast for the first time, "Oh. Sorry about that, I hadn't noticed them. Mr. Kennedy was a little sick today. I'll change before I see my next patient."

"Isn't that kind of unprofessional, wearing that to see a new patient?"

Mario scoffed, setting his chart down onto the table beside Jim and deciding to start with the cut on his face. "The day I take criticism from _Jim Gordon_ on workplace professionalism is the day that I quit." He placed his hands under Jim's jaw so he could manipulate his head around with ease and examine the superficial wound, "Don't think I don't hear about the stuff _you_ get up to."

Jim flinched then, and Mario realized he'd brought up Lee without intending to. He mentally kicked himself before reaching for a cotton swab and the disinfectant.

"How is she?"

Mario sighed, already exhausted from the inevitably awkward oncoming conversation. They were really going to do this. "She's great. Finally agreed to take some time off for the honeymoon."

Jim nodded slowly, staring at the floor, "Where are you going?"

"I don't think I want to tell you that." Mario snorted, and told Jim to stay still when he flinched away from the antiseptic.

"You think I'll follow you two to Tuscany?"

"Nice try, but no. And I wouldn't put anything past you."

Jim's lip quirked with amusement at that, and he was obediently still when Mario changed from bandaging the cut on his cheek to dabbing the bullet graze on his shoulder, "Not Italy then?"

"Not telling."

"How about Norway? I hear they've got some popular romantic destinations there."

Mario snorted, "It feels like you're trying to set me up here."

Jim grinned devilishly, "Why would you think that?"

Mario slapped his arm over the bandage on Jim's shoulder and tried not to feel too pleased with himself when Jim squawked. "You're all clear. Go home, rest up and take a painkiller if you need to."

Jim huffed out a sarcastic laugh before leaving the room with his jacket draped over his arm.

* * *

He was back the next day with a knife wound in the side and claw marks down his forearm.

 _"Jesus_." Mario let out, "It hasn't even been a full twenty four hours, Gordon."

"Police work keeps you on your toes." he offered weakly, hand pressed tight over his side, just below his ribs.

Mario worked quickly, thankful that nothing vital had been hit or else there would have been a lot more blood. "You'll be fine, but you should be more careful." he chided, "A few inches to the left and you could have injured something important."

"Still hurts like a bitch."

" _Good_. What happened there?" Mario asked, gesturing to the scratch marks on his arm.

Jim looked the scratches once before shrugging, then wincing when the action bumped Mario's careful hands away from where they should have been caused a little pain, "She was trying to get me off her boyfriend."

"What were you doing to her boyfriend?" Mario continued to prod, deciding that keeping the conversation on Gordon's escapades was a smarter choice then letting the conversation fall back on Lee.

Jim, as if reading his mind, interjected, "How about Bali or Bora Bora?"

"Lee doesn't want anywhere too flashy." Mario answered before he could stop himself.

He frowned sternly at Jim, letting him know he didn't find Jim's antics amusing. Gordon merely grinned, toothy and brighter than he had any right to given the pain he must be feeling from the stab to his torso. "So probably not Paris then, huh?"

"She never said- _stop that_." he hissed, and hastily finished cleaning the wound before carefully slotting a bandage over it.

"So _maybe_ Paris?"

"Not anymore."

Jim chuckled before sliding off of the table and heading for the door, waving once and tossing back a "Thanks for the help, doc."

* * *

"How's the stab wound?" Mario asked conversationally as he wrapped up Jim's twisted ankle.

Jim shrugged, casually kicking his free foot back and forth off the end of the table, "It doesn't hurt too bad, I think it was pretty superficial."

Mario raised an eyebrow, "As a doctor, I can tell you it wasn't. Though, it was a straight slide in, so that might help with the healing. Your attacker didn't jerk the knife around."

"Didn't get the chance."

Mario clipped the end of the bandage and instructed that Jim stay off it if he could; it would heal itself in a manner of days, but it would be painful to walk on.

When Jim hopped off the table, not a care in the world, Mario was stunned. He'd only shown minimal discomfort for how much the action had to have hurt his foot. "What are you _doing_?"

"Going back to work." he replied simply, like it was obvious.

"I just told you to stay off that foot!"

Jim smiled, grabbing up his shoe to slip on over the injured foot, despite Mario's wide, shocked eyes and immediate warnings, "Got places to be Doc. Little bit of pain isn't going to stop me."

Mario wondered briefly, a fleeting thought, if maybe Jim just didn't care if he was hurt as he strut out from the examination room. Jim looked as at ease as ever, hobbling only slightly as he went.

* * *

"How do you manage to keep doing this?" Mario asked when he opened the door to see Jim, familiarly sitting atop the examination table.

Jim shrugged, "Danger follows me."

"I think you seek it out."

Mario set the clipboard aside, looking over Jim's dislocated thumb with nervous curiosity. "How'd this one happen?"

"Gave the wrong man a handshake." Jim said, holding back a smirk.

"Funny."

"Had a shotgun yanked back from my hand, took my thumb with it the wrong way. S'what I get for not paying attention."

Mario tried not to think about how he knew Jim was much more attentive than that and would have- _should have_ -easily noticed someone reaching for him from behind. Jim would've at least had the sense to not leave his body at an angle where he could dislocate something after he _did_ notice..

The idea that Jim could have been purposely letting himself get hurt had already been running through Mario's mind, but he felt more solid in his theory now. He didn't comment on it though, if Jim wanted to get himself hurt that was his own business, not Mario's.

"You could always try California if you don't want to leave the country."

Mario sighed, knowing Jim had probably noticed Mario watching him and wanted to get his attention on something different. Using his honeymoon plans was a little low though. He let himself oblige Jim's whimsicality anyway, thinking it was better than silence, "Sharks in the water, even little ones in the shallows."

"You're afraid of sharks?" Jim asked, smirking.

"Everyone's afraid of something."

"No sharks in Gotham. You could always just stay here." Jim smiled, and Mario tried not to read into the little bit of hopefulness he caught in Jim's tone.

He shook his head, "The point is to get _away_ from Gotham for a while."

"How long?"

"Jim-"

"I get it." Jim interrupted, raising his uninjured hand in surrender, "I'm shutting up."

* * *

The interrogation he'd been expecting from Lee for days finally came over a lovely dinner out. He hadn't been expecting it when she suddenly brought up Harvey Bullock, wondering if this was some new dunce he had to be worried about, but then she mentioned him explaining Jim's recent carelessness to her and the pieces fell back into place. He listened closer than he meant to when she gave a few more details about the incidents than what he'd heard directly from Jim.

"Harvey says he's been there every day this week." she said accusingly, like somehow it was _Mario's_ fault that Jim was a reckless bastard.

"He's shown up with small injuries, yes." he admitted before taking a tense bite of his pasta.

Lee looked at Mario with concern, but he knew it wasn't for him. Deep down he knew Lee still loved Jim, she probably always would, but he didn't have the courage to bring the subject to the surface. If they ever had the chance to really sit down and talk it out, she'd leave him, he was sure. She'd come to realize she'd chosen Mario because he was _safe_. Though, her ideas of safe were a little warped if she had seen the son of a Mafia Don as 'safe'. "He's fine." he added, frowning into his wine glass.

"It's just worrying that he'd be there _every_ day..."

"He's a tough guy-"

"Jim Gordon keeps his emotions buried. If there's nothing he can do about them then he resorts to throwing himself into dangerous situations." she stated with bite, abandoning her plate and leaning back against her chair with a frown, "If he's doing this because of our wedding..."

"That would _not_ be your fault, Lee." Mario snapped, leaning forward to reach for her hand and offer some reassurance, "It's Jim's issue. If that bastard wants to be an _idiot_ and go out getting himself hurt again and again instead of just _talking_ to us-"

Lee blinked curiously, "You're worried about him too..." she said, staring at Mario with some kind of newfound understanding.

Mario balked, "I'm not worried about him. I'm worried about _you_."

"Are you two friends now?"

Mario scoffed, retracting his hand and returning to poking at his food, "I wouldn't call us friends, but he's tolerable I suppose."

"Do you chat when he comes in?"

"Sometimes."

Lee leaned forward onto her elbows, looking at Mario curiously, "What do you talk about?"

Mario snorted, "Our honeymoon plans mostly."

Lee chuckled, surprised, "Really? Did you tell him about Paris?"

"I've never told him what the plans are. He mainly just guesses and offers suggestions."

"Are you going to tell him?" Lee smiled, finally comfortable enough to take a sip of her wine.

"No."

She smirked around the rim of her glass, "So that he'll keep guessing?"

"So he won't _follow us_ when we go."

Lee set her glass down then, looking up at Mario with some hesitation, "You really think he'd follow us on our honeymoon?"

"You don't?"

She didn't answer, but instead stabbed a forkful of salad from her plate, "Make sure he's alright when you see him tomorrow."

Mario didn't want to bring up that she shouldn't be worrying, or that she was assuming he would come in again soon, so he busied himself with twisting a large mouthful of pasta onto his fork. He didn't want her to think too much on it; on _him_. He wanted Lee to give up Jim Gordon and he wanted _Jim_ to give up Lee. He tried not to think too hard on where this sudden need for Jim to also move on had come from as he downed his bite with a gulp of wine.

* * *

"You can't keep doing this," Mario sighed, lifting the needle to Jim's forehead, "She'll see it. Lee will want to help you and she's trying really hard right now to get _past_ you."

"It's just a perk of the job," he replied, wincing just a little at the first stitch. "Lee knows that."

"You're doing in on purpose and you know it."

Jim grinned impishly, and for a moment Mario could see why Lee might be weak for someone like Jim, "Maybe I just like being fawned over by worried doctors."

"I'm not worried about you." Mario snapped back, harsher than he'd intended and apologized when the needle went just a little too far in and Jim flinched.

"Good." Jim retorted, "Stop telling me what to do then."

Mario frowned at Jim, but didn't press any further. He finished the last of the stitches and cautiously slipped a couple butterfly bandages over the cut.

"Canada probably doesn't have sharks."

"Canada isn't a honeymoon destination." Mario replied with a wiry smile, "What would you even _do_ in Canada?"

Jim relaxed back against the chair, "They have street performers in Victoria, Harborside bars, some big, fancy hotels..."

" _Gotham_ has street performers..." he said, and as an afterthought, "and Lee wouldn't be interested in bars."

Jim shrugged, "Well, you also don't exactly go on a honeymoon for an _out of the hotel_ experience, do you?"

Mario's grin slipped, "You do if you're trying to establish a long lasting marriage."

At that, Jim sat up and raised a questioning eyebrow, "Trouble in paradise?"

"Nothing I want to discuss with _you_."

"Ouch."

"You're good to go." Mario said decisively, standing to head for the door. He stopped just shy of reaching for the handle before cocking his head to the side to speak over his shoulder, "Take care of yourself, okay? There's no sense in getting yourself hurt. If you're trying to get her attention, just go and talk to her."

Jim made a noise that sounded disbelieving, "That almost sounds like permission, doctor."

Mario scoffed, "It's not that I like the idea of you alone, talking with my fiance about your _feelings_ , but I'd prefer you get them out that way rather than getting yourself killed."

He didn't wait around long enough for Jim to reply, stepping out to the hallway and not looking back as he thought about why he suddenly cared whether or not Jim Gordon was hurting himself. It was because Lee would be devastated, he told himself, disregarding the fact that truthfully, it would be better for his relationship with Lee if Gordon was gone.

* * *

"Jim came to see me today..." Lee said as they were undressing for the night, setting a great mood right off the bat.

"Oh?"

"When I said that it wasn't a good idea for us to be talking, he said _you_ told him to come see me..."

Mario huffed, kicking away his pants and sitting on the edge of their bed to pull off his socks, "It was a better alternative to whatever it is he's doing now. What did he say?"

"He... wished me luck. With you. He actually told me that he hoped we would be really happy..."

Mario paused, one sock only halfway off, to stare at Lee, "That's it?"

"What do you mean, 'that's it'?" she asked, frowning at him from the closet as she slipped into her nightgown, "What were you expecting?"

"A declaration of love, honestly."

"He's moved on."

Mario sneered, "Sure he has. You can clearly tell by all this suicidal behavior."

"I..." Lee started, pausing as she made her way over to the bed, "I really think he might have, Mario."

"Why would he be behaving like this then?" Mario pressed, flopping down onto his back as she climbed in beside him.

Lee shrugged, and Mario tried his best not to read into the expression on her face, "There must be something else on his mind." and she'd never made a face like that for _him_.

"So, he's genuinely offering honeymoon advice?"

She smiled, chuckling as she reached for his hand beneath the covers, "I guess so. Disappointed?"

"Pfft. Why would I be?" he grinned, leaning in to give her a quick, chaste kiss before reaching over to turn out the light.

* * *

"This one... wasn't my fault..." Jim gurgled as he tried to cling to the counter of the nurses station.

Mario was wide eyed, staring at Jim exasperatedly as he rushed to catch him before he fell over. His shirt was stained with red, covering so much area Mario couldn't immediately tell where the wound was and it frightened him more than it should have. He called to the nurses for a room, forgoing the wait for a gurney in favor of tossing one of Jim's arms over his neck to help him hobble.

"You _stupid_ , self sacrificing son of a-"

"Careful doc," Jim smiled, teeth a little stained with blood and eyes tiredly lidded, "there are ladies present."

"If you survive this, I'm going to kill you."

Jim snorted, then coughed when the action brought blood into his nose, "Seems rather redundant... to fix me then..."

"Stop talking or you'll make it worse." Mario ordered, helping Jim lay down on the table as a nurse worked to get his shirt off. Mario tried not to stare as much as he did.

If it weren't for the palm sized gash in Jim's stomach, Mario would have been hard pressed not to look at the surprising amount of toned muscle that hid behind Jim's shirt. He busied himself with getting the wound closed as fast as he could, calling the nurse for a hot towel and some anesthetic just in case. Jim wasn't fussing too bad about the pain, but he knew Jim was the kind of guy to grit his teeth and bear through it. The wound looked like a dog bite, different puncture wounds making up the whole of it and sending Mario into a frenzy of quick, temporary stapling while before stitched together what he could.

The process took far longer than he wanted, and when Jim passed out for a few moments his heart had absolutely dropped. The nurse spurred him into continuing with a gentle hand and a concerned, _"Doctor"_ , and Mario did his best to keep a steady hand as the second nurse coaxed him back into consciousness.

When he was finally done, Jim was still breathing and the nurses had gone on to other assignments, he finally allowed himself to get angry.

"What the hell were you thinking? A dog? What did you _do_?"

"Suspect had a guard dog we didn't know about." Jim offered defensively, "He was about to get away-"

"So you _let him get away,_ Jim. Are you _trying_ to kill yourself?"

When Gordon lowered his eyes and took too long to answer Mario felt pressed for breath, " _Jim_. I will call the proper services if I need to."

He waved Mario off dismissively, "It's not like that."

"Then what is it, Jim? Because I am _this_ close to forcibly admitting you to Arkham."

Jim sighed, raising a hand to his face to pinch the bridge of his nose. Mario was upset and confused as he allowed himself to lean back against the counter, staring at Jim expectantly and unwilling to budge until he got an answer. "Is it because of Lee?"

" _No_." Jim rushed out, glaring at the floor, "No, it's not about Lee."

"Then tell me."

Jim shook his head, muttering in defeat, "When it first started... yeah, I was upset about Lee. But..."

"But?"

"But I realized I really am over her."

Mario crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes at Jim, "Why are you still doing this then?"

"I..." Jim started, cutting himself off before raising a hand to rub the back of his neck, "I was looking for an excuse to... to come here."

Mario balked, "You nearly died because you wanted to come _here_?" he asked, disbelief and outrage laced in his tone, "Are you _kidding_ me?"

"Well, it was also a good way to get my mind off some things."

Mario huffed, frustrated beyond belief, as he ran a hand over his face, "You're a masochist, aren't you?"

Jim snorted and looked up at Mario amusedly, "What if I said I was?"

Mario paused, realizing with surprise that his jarr had really been right on the nose. He'd unintentionally tapped into a rather deep oncoming conversation that would be better in the setting of a counselor's office. He decided to go the direct route and not give Jim a chance to skirt around the real issue here, "I'd tell you to go find someone who does that shit _professionally_ and stop trying to get yourself _fucking killed_."

"And if I didn't want some random _dominatrix_ putting her mitts all over me?" he retorted, leaning forward and only wincing a little before touching his stomach.

"Find a girlfriend." Mario huffed, and tried to distract himself from the fact that _they were really talking about this_ , "And now that I know you like it, you're not getting any pity; I'm not going to feel bad when you get hurt anymore."

Jim smiled, bright and beautiful.

 _...beautiful?_

"You feel bad when I get hurt?"

"I feel bad when _anyone_ gets hurt. I'm a doctor. You're not special." he bit back, turning away from Jim to clean up some of the mess sitting on the counter, more to busy himself than anything. Clean up wasn't his job.

Mario was lying, because Jim was a special case. He wouldn't be wasting his time talking about this kind of thing with just any patient. Jim Gordon was an excruciatingly difficult egg to crack, and one he wouldn't have bothered tampering with if he was anyone else. His interest in Jim is because of Lee, he assured himself, but the words seemed half assed, even as he said them to himself.

He was about to swipe the bloody needle into a sterile glass before his brain brought him back around to what Jim had actually said earlier. "...Why were you looking for an excuse to come here?" he asked hesitantly.

Jim didn't answer him immediately. He spent a moment glancing between Mario and his feet before he finally raised his head. He propped himself up with his arms behind his back and donned his best, most charming smile, but Mario could still see the nervousness he was trying to hide behind it. It made _Mario_ nervous, wondering just what he had to hide. "I wanted to see you."

 _He certainly hadn't been expecting that._

Mario's eyes widened, surprised and stunned, " _Me_?"

"You."

" _Why_ in the world-? You don't have to be injured to- to... _Jesus_ , Jim."

Jim huffed and slipped off of the table. He took two steps forward and into Mario's space before grinning again, "It was more fun than showing up with flowers."

"F-flowers?" Mario stuttered and the whole world tilted a little off balance as the declaration behind that statement finally kicked in. "Jim, do... do you-?" he gulped, "Do you have some sort of _infatuation_ with-"

"Yes." he said simply, casual, like it was the easiest thing in the world to admit even as his lips twitched with nervous anticipation.

Mario glared, "Stop pretending to be so cool with this!"

Jim merely smiled, reaching an arm around Mario and catching him off guard as it slipped onto the counter. Was Jim going to kiss him? Right here? Bloodied and battered with Mario already confused out of his wits? But Jim pulled away with his blood soaked shirt rather than making the move Mario had been expecting. When he turned to leave, waving over his shoulder and thanking Mario for his help, Mario was completely speechless.

"Tell Lee I said hi, and that you should look into Caro."

It took all the strength Mario had not to crumble to the floor in a flustered heap after the door closed.


	2. Chapter 2

"He hit on you?" Lee asked incredulously from her seat at the vanity, watching through the mirror as Mario paced behind her.

"It... it was so _weird_ , Lee. He... he's been getting himself injured because- Jesus, Lee, he's a _masochist_."

"Oh." she said simply, pausing with the make-up removing cloth mid-cheek, "That... actually explains a lot."

Mario tried not to read too far into that sentence, opting for a more furious walking pace instead. "I don't understand him. I thought he was in love with _you._ "

Lee's expression went blank as she set the cloth aside, "You think he's in _love_ with you?"

"No!" he forced out, stopping his restless movements to run a hand through his hair, "God, no, I don't think that. I mean, he _could_ be _._ What do I know? But he- he definitely didn't say that. I was just- I was only saying I thought he had eyes for _you_."

"Mario." Lee said, standing from her cushion to come to his side and cup his cheek with her hand, "You need to calm down a little. You look like you're about to hyperventalate."

"How would you feel if it was you?" he snapped bitterly, realizing too little too late how his words might have affected Lee.

She dropped her hand and hardened her stare, "If it was _me_ , I definitely wouldn't be freaking out like this."

"Because you still love him." Mario huffed, though he knew he shouldn't have, "Of course you would be okay with it."

The hurt in her eyes was evident, screaming at him with her expression before she slapped him outright.

Mario was stunned, lifting a hand to his stinging cheek and staring at her in surprise. Lee was glaring at him now, and there was a darkness behind her tears he hadn't ever seen before. She raised her hand as if to hit him again, but shook her head and let it drop back to her side, "This isn't about me, Mario. This is about you."

She turned back to her vanity without another word, finishing with the removal of her makeup. When Mario grumbled and made his way for the bed, she stopped him with a mirthless, "You should probably sleep on the couch tonight."

So he bit his cheek, grabbed his pillow from the mattress and forced himself out into the living room wordlessly.

* * *

Mario was exhausted the next day, rolling into work with a sore back and lacking at least four crucial hours of sleep. He went about his rounds for a little while before decidedly disappearing into his office for a much needed break. The hospital's coffee vendor lacked the skill required to make a decent cup, and without the much needed caffeine, Mario was feeling his eyelids droop.

He crossed his arms over his desk and let his head fall between them, huffing and frustrated and completely worn out.

He needed to find a way to save his marriage. He was trying to _save_ his marriage and he wasn't even married yet.

The prospect of marrying Lee Thompkins seemed to have that effect on people.

* * *

The beeper attached to Mario's hip was an urgent alarm that startled him out of a sleep he hadn't realized he'd fallen into. He fumbled with the little device with a foggy head, looking at the room number and standing on impulse, already on his way out the door, despite how exhausted he was.

Jim Gordon was waiting for him when he entered the examination room.

"Hi there, Doc." he said, and had the nerve to even look slightly sheepish.

Mario decided not to answer, plucking the clipboard from the tub on the wall and glaring at the sheet of paper it held. "You broke your toe?" he asked, lifting one brow at Jim as he finally raised his head.

"Stubbed it on a table too hard." he offered with a shrug.

Mario was unamused.

He glared at Jim, but didn't say anything else before attending to the cupboards to find a toe cast. Maybe he'd put it on a little rougher than he needed to just to hammer the idea home. He couldn't keep doing this. It was nothing but unhealthy and ineffective, and whatever Jim was dealing with _wasn't_ going to be solved this way.

"Did you ever think about Caro?" Jim smiled weakly as Mario crouched down to get a look at his toe.

Nothing too bad, it would heal quickly, thank God, "No."

"Are you ever going to?" Jim asked casually, then grinned, "Or do you already have a set destination?"

Mario grumbled, unwilling to talk about this just now, "Jim..." he said, hesitantly, "I can't be the one to treat you if you come back here again."

Jim's smile melted away faster than a popsicle in the summer heat, and Mario decided that was the moment to clip in the cast. Jim winced, but sadly didn't let it distract him. "Why not?"

"You can't keep doing this, and I'm not going to be an advocate for it."

He growled, "You don't have to be an _advocate_ , you just have to fucking treat me if I have a wound. _You're a doctor_. It's your job."

"I won't do it, Jim." Mario snapped back, final in his decision, "You're hurting yourself intentionally and I'm not going to give you any excuse to keep at it."

"I'll just see another doctor."

"You don't _want_ to see another doctor." he retorted.

Jim shot Mario a bitter look, "You're using my feelings against me." he frowned, looking slightly angry, "Isn't that kind of low?"

"You're trying to use my Hippocratic Oath against _me_. I'm trying to potentially save your life. You tell me which is worse?"

He sighed then, letting his shoulders roll back before he gave in and shrugged, "Fair enough."

"Find..." Mario hesitated, lifting a hand to gesture helplessly, "a _professional_ or something."

Jim snorted, "I already told you I'm not interested in some stranger-"

"Then ask someone you know!" Mario bit back, "Jim, this is going to get you _killed_ unless you do something about it."

"Would that be so bad? For you, I mean?"

Mario blinked, looking up at Jim with a mix between a startled glare and some measure of dumbfoundedness, "Are you kidding?"

Jim's expression didn't change. He kept a fond eye on Mario, smiling pitifully as he said, "Maybe."

Mario didn't realize he was holding tightly onto Jim's ankle until Jim gave him a cautionary glance. When Mario looked down to where he was holding, he realized he'd been gently _caressing him with his fucking thumb_ completely unawares. Mario coughed, removed himself from Jim's person and took a small step back. "I'm serious Jim. You can't come back here again."

"I'll let someone else treat me." he said bitterly, and Mario tried not to let his growing anger show.

"No. Ask someone to _help_ you-"

"I don't _have_ anyone. Not that I could trust with something like this." Jim growled, teeth tight as he glared at Mario.

Then he paused, gave Mario an absolute shit-eating grin and leaned back against the examination table, "Unless you would do it?"

Mario choked, " _Me_ ?"

"Yeah, you."

"I... I don't know anything about this stuff, Jim." he said lamely, and forced himself to take another step back, retreating towards the counter.

"You just have to know how to hurt me without causing any real damage." Jim shrugged, "But you're a doctor. That part'll be easy."

"So what's the _hard_ part?"

Jim slipped off from the table and rolled his shoulders, "Maybe Lee? But she's an understanding woman. I'm sure she wouldn't mind. Most likely the biggest obstacle here is your own fear of it."

"I'm not _afraid_." Mario snapped, but Jim only grinned.

"Good. How about tomorrow then? You're usually done at 6. Meet me at mine. I know you know where I live."

Mario couldn't even deny it. He'd checked up on him around the time Lee had startled keeping secrets from him-after she'd slipped off to his apartment in the middle of the night for God knows what. At least Mario knew it wasn't sex. Gordon wasn't interested in her that way anymore; no, he'd traded that fancy for _Mario_.

Fuck his life.

And now Mario was expected to- to...

"Breathe." Jim offered, slinking forward and into Mario's personal space before lightly touching his hand. "You're fine."

"I don't understand you, Jim."

"That's okay. I just need you to understand this- _that I need this_. That's all I want."

Mario nodded solemnly, "I do... sort of."

"And that's fine." he let his fingers trail up from Mario's knuckles to his wrist, torturously slow in their ascent, "I'll tell you what I need."

He kissed Mario then. Nothing deep or dirty, just a wary little peck over his lips before he pulled back with a grin. Mario looked at him with wide eyes, unsure why he hadn't shoved Jim away the moment he'd stepped too close. _He was engaged to Jim's ex for crying out loud_ , and Mario was letting this _twisted detective_ run his fingertips over Mario's wrist and give him fleeting kisses.

Jim let his hand drop away from Mario, and Mario instantly felt the cool absence of his touch. He smiled, nodded once, then headed for the door, "See ya tomorrow, doc."

And Mario was left once more, completely stumped as to what to say while Jim retreated.

* * *

"So, you're going to hurt him... so... that he stops hurting himself?" Lee asked incredulously, sitting on the opposite couch with her arms crossed over her chest, "I don't understand."

"Like... small stuff. I'm planning to look it up online and learn a little more, but a couple bruises would be better than broken toes and _stab_ wounds."

She frowned, "I don't think either is very healthy."

"Probably not. I think the fact that it's _me_ is probably even less healthy... but he said there wasn't anyone else he could ask."

Lee leaned back against the cushion, frown deepening, "He could have asked me."

Mario frowned, "I don't think you have the same kind of relationship you once did. I don't think he could really... trust you the same way." he offered.

"And he trusts _you_ ?"

It stung, just a little, but Mario brushed off her snideness in favor of a calm conversation. There wouldn't be any chance of her agreeing if this turned into a fight, "I guess so..."

"Why?" She asked, almost scowling.

Mario lifted his chin, "Why not? I've never lied to him."

Lee glared, "I never lied to him either."

"But you lie to _me_ all the time."

They were at odds again, and Mario knew that they'd end up in another fight soon. Jim Gordon was the worst thing that could happen to their relationship, forcing them to deal with this awkward triangle. Lee loved Jim, Mario already knew, and Jim apparently had a thing for Mario. Mario-well, Mario wasn't sure what he was feeling. He had loved Lee for some time, but the strain of knowing she loved another man was tough, it was killing him actually. Everytime he caught her in another lie he found himself asking why he even bothered. His father liked her, she'd make a good mother, but the passion he'd felt and the trust she had once held died some time ago.

He didn't want to lose her necessarily, but things certainly needed to change. They couldn't go on like this anymore.

"This is good for you too." Mario finally settled on, crossing one leg over the other as he mirrored her loose but agitated posture, "He stops hurting himself and you can move in to really pick up the pieces."

"Mario, I'm not interested in rekindling a romance with Jim."

He tsked, "Because you know he's over you. If there was even a chance he was still fawning over you like before you'd still be chasing him and you know it."

"Stop it!" she snapped, standing from her seat with a glare, "Why do you have to talk to me like that?"

"Because I'm angry!" Mario yelled back, jumping up from the couch, "My fiance is in love with another man and doesn't have the gall to admit it to my face! I don't even know why you're willing to marry me anymore. He's no longer a prisoner, there were a hundred chances for you two to get back together and now that he's moved on you're jealous of _me_ !"

Lee stopped, eyes wide and mouth slightly parted as she listened to Mario rant.

"It's not my fault he's developed some sort of weird attraction to me! I didn't ask for it!"

"Mario, calm down..." she tried, and lifted a hand to placate him.

He shoved it away, "I'm so sick of this, Lee."

"We can talk this out-"

"But why?" he asked, letting his shoulders droop with defeat, "Why are we trying to work this out when it's clear that we don't feel the same way about each other anymore?"

"You still love me, don't you?"

Mario frowned.

There were still many things he'd like to say, some things he'd like to do to maybe just try to fix this startling crack he'd just put in their relationship, but he wasn't so sure anymore. He shook his head, raising a palm to his face to try and wipe away all the worry, "I'm going to stay in a hotel tonight." he said simply, and left without another word.

* * *

He left the hotel lacking sleep yet again, and went to work feeling like a zombie, crawled out of the grave.

Work went by slowly, and Mario took the short fleeting moments between his patients to nap, even just to lay his head down for a second. He could only bring himself to eat half of his lunch, tossing the other half a sandwich into the trash without care. He wasn't hungry. He was upset and sleep deprived.

When work was over, Mario mozied his way over to Jim's apartment.

He knocked hesitantly, and when Jim opened the door with a charming smile and a simple T-shirt, Mario felt like he'd lost a battle he didn't know he was fighting. Why would Lee ever get over a man like Jim Gordon? Everything about him pulled you in and beckoned you into his little world of danger and excitement. He knew that was her thing, he was sure the only reason she'd ever thought Mario was even _close_ to suitable was his being the son of a mobster.

Jim opened his mouth to say something but Mario held up a hand, "I can't actually help you today Jim. I came to say that. I'm exhausted and I couldn't-"

"I could tell." Jim grinned, and stepped aside to let him in anyway, "I was just going to invite you in for some coffee."

Mario laughed in spite of himself, nodding weakly and allowing Jim to usher him inside.

The place looked like a bachelor pad, hardly livable really, and Mario could see the dust marks on the coffee table where Jim had obviously tried to pick up a little, probably in preparation for Mario's arrival. He sighed, sorry to have disappointed Jim but grateful that he wouldn't have to worry about any of _that_ mess tonight.

"Take a seat." Jim ordered, disappearing over to the kitchen to fix him a cup.

"Thanks."

There was some minor bustling around the kitchen space as Jim worked, "What happened?"

Mario groaned, "I don't... well I _do_ want to talk about it but you're not the person to talk to."

Jim hummed from beside the counter, pouring coffee into a mug, "So it's Lee. What did you do? You take cream or sugar?"

"Just cream." Mario said, "And why do you assume it was me?"

Jim smiled at him and popped open the fridge to dig out the creamer, "Because it's Lee." he offered, and Mario sighed again.

In another life, he and Jim probably could have been friends. They would have made great friends, really. If it wasn't for the awkward tension between them regarding Lee, they might have become the best of companions. Jim was surprisingly easy to talk to when you weren't trying to goad him into expressing his own feelings, and Mario had never really had many friends that really understood his situation with his fiance. Lee had dated Jim too, after all. Jim knew better than anyone what she was like.

"Here ya go." Jim smiled as he passed off the mug, "It's not very hot though."

"Thanks." Mario murmured, taking the first sip and finding himself surprisingly content with it's temperature. " _Thank you_."

Jim snorted, "It's just shitty coffee."

"I needed it though."

Jim dropped down onto the sofa chair adjacent to the couch and nodded, "So talk."

"I shouldn't, Jim..."

"Come on, who's it gonna hurt? You've obviously got no one else to talk to about it."

Mario huffed, glaring at Jim over the rim of his coffee cup, "What makes you say that?"

"You wouldn't have come here. You could have called to tell me you couldn't make it, but you came here _in person_. I think you secretly want to tell me everything."

Mario frowned, "I wasn't really thinking..."

"Just relax, drink your coffee and talk it out. When you're done you can crash here too, if you want. You look like you need the rest."

"I've got a hotel room-"

Jim's eyebrow rose, "So you've been kicked from the house?"

Mario groaned, let his mug rest against his thigh and conceded, "God, you're so irritating. You don't have to use your detective skills on me, I'll talk."

Jim smiled impishly, and Mario stuck his tongue out at him, too tired to care about how childish the action was.

"We're fighting."

"I assumed that much."

"We're fighting about _you_."

Jim huffed, "What did I do?"

"You kissed me. Twice." Mario grunted, and took another gulp of his drink.

The detective grinned, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his legs, "Did you tell her that?"

"Of course. I don't _lie_ to her."

Jim paused mid sip from his own cup and blinked at him, drawing his mouth back slowly before cautiously speaking again, "I take it she lies to you?"

"Often."

"And that bugs you."

Mario bristled, "Of course it bugs me! You can't forge a good relationship on _lies_! She didn't lie to _you_."

"So that's what bothers you?" Jim's lips pressed thin before he chortled, "She's lied to me before. She once told me I looked good in this _god awful_ pink shirt that she kept insisting was _salmon_."

Mario chuckled, "She's really more colorblind than she realizes. I doubt that you looked that bad though."

Jim grinned, held up a finger to silently tell him to wait a moment and disappeared into a door that Mario assumed led to his bedroom. He reappeared a moment later, sporting what was truly a ghastly shade of pink. It drained the pleasant color of Jim's skin and the buttons looked to go all the way up under his chin. Jim held his arms out wide as if to say, 'look at this monstrosity', and going to far as to spin around a time or two.

Mario laughed. He couldn't help it. It really was awful, "Oh my gosh, take that thing off!"

"See?" Jim huffed, already starting on the buttons, "I told you it was awful."

"She let you wear that out? It's horrible."

"She actually insisted once."

"I would _never_..." he smirked, the howls of his laughter finally fading down to a low chuckle.

Jim beamed, but as he worked the final buttons loose, started to frown, "But seriously, am I causing you too much trouble? You look like you haven't slept much recently."

Mario tried his best not to look as Jim slipped the shirt off his shoulders, realizing he should be more courteous, but damn it he was too tired to bother with what he _should be_ doing. "It's not you, necessarily." he sighed, "We would be having these problems sooner or later."

He waited until Jim took up his seat again, not bothering to go put on something new and holding his discarded shirt in his lap.

Mario tried not to stare.

"What _is_ the problem, then?"

Mario huffed and let his head fall back against the couch, "Honestly? She just... doesn't love me. I don't understand why she's still hanging around at all."

"And you?"

Mario blinked, "Me?"

"Do you still love _her_ ?"

He frowned, faced once again with the question he didn't want to answer, "I don't know anymore, Jim."

Jim was politely stoic as he nodded, shifting in his seat just a little with (what Mario could tell were) nerves. Before he could even ask, Mario shut him down, "That doesn't mean I'm interested in you either, Jim."

Mario always thought of Jim as a confident guy. He assumed he'd take the comment like it was and bear with it, but Jim's responding grin was so overflown with self depreciation that Mario wanted to take it back, "Of course not." Jim said, the smile not quite reaching his eyes.

"I mean..." he fumbled, "I don't know you. Well I _know_ you, Lee talks about you a lot but _I_ don't know you. I just know what she's said."

His smile became genuine as Mario stumbled through his attempt to fix what he'd said, "So, you're saying you're not interested in me only because you don't know me well enough?"

"That's not what I'm saying."

"That's exactly what you're saying." Jim grinned.

Mario growled, "Stop doing that."

"Doing what?"

"That turn about thing you do with my words. I don't like it. This isn't an interrogation and you're not trying to get something out of me. It's very _frustrating_."

Jim chuckled, "I think it's just the right amount of frustrating for you."

"I hate you."

"No you don't."

"Shut up and give me another cup of coffee." he said bitterly, and lifted his mug to try and cover his view of Jim's shirtless chest as he stood, all in vain.


	3. Chapter 3

Mario woke up on a grungy leather couch, remembering that he'd crashed at Jim's the previous night and now hating himself for it. His back ached in all the worst places. At least it was the weekend now, no need to worry about going into work bone sore for the third time this week.

"Morning," Jim called from the stove, something sizzling in the pan in front of him, "eggs and bacon okay?"

"Oh, you don't... uhm... you don't need to make me breakfast, Jim."

He waved his hand carelessly, "Gah, come on. I don't mind."

Mario huffed and dragged himself up from the couch, "Why does this feel like a morning after situation?"

Jim grinned, shot Mario a wink over his shoulder, "If only."

"Hah." he sniffed, "Smells good."

"The one thing a single man like myself can make, good ol' eggs and bacon."

Mario nodded, "The bachelor's go-to."

"Of course." Jim smiled, and leaned over to drop a little kiss on a startled Mario.

"Jim!"

He shrugged with a grin, "Just felt like it."

"Well stop that. It's weird and I'm still engaged."

Jim stiffened just a little beside him as Mario decided to raid his fridge for a drink, certainly not trying to ignore how he felt about it, "I thought that you staying in a hotel and coming _here_ meant you two were..."

"No."

"Oh." Jim said.

Mario sighed, "Look, Jim..."

"Nah, I got it. Just a pit stop before you go running back to her, right?"

"Hey," Mario frowned, turning around to say something else but was interrupted by Jim's sullen huff.

"Shut up. I understand and I wasn't expecting anything else."

Mario wanted to say something about how self deprecating that sounded, about how defeated Jim looked in spite of his words, but kept his lips sealed. This was a delicate situation, and if he wasn't careful he could easily end up hurting Jim, maybe even breaking his heart.

Instead he decided orange juice looked good, and tugged the carton from the door roughly before poking around for a glass.

Jim plated the food quietly before handing Mario his share, and they sat to eat on the couches with the same disheartening silence hanging between them. Mario decided it was wiser to just quietly go about eating his food instead of bringing it up.

"I still want you to do it for me, by the way." Jim said out of nowhere, their plates half empty and Jim just casually chewing on his bacon, "Just in case you were wondering. That hasn't changed."

"Do-?" Mario choked a little on his orange juice, "Oh! Uhm... really?"

"Yep."

He frowned, "...Why?"

Jim simply smiled, "You said it yourself, you don't lie. I think.. I just trust that you'll go about it right."

"And if I don't?" Mario asked, a little brazen, "Or if I don't like it or you're not getting what you need after all?"

"Then we stop. This isn't binding, Mario. I'm not trapping you."

He scoffed, "I feel pretty trapped, Jim."

"Then help me fix that. _How_ can I fix that?"

Mario shrugged and scooped a final bite of eggs onto his fork, "Just don't ask me to do it?"

"Then we're back at square one and I'll probably see you at work on Monday." Jim retorted with an amused chuckle.

Mario glared at him, "That's not funny."

"I wasn't really kidding." he admitted, "I need _something_ , Mario. That's the only other way I know how to get it."

"Well that's not happening."

"So this is plan B. It's just to try it out, Mario, not binding. _You_ suggested it. If it doesn't work or if you're too uncomfortable then we stop and I'll look for something else."

Mario eyed him warily, "Would you really?" he balked, "Look for something better?"

Jim sighed, "I promise that if you're willing to _really_ try and it doesn't work out, I'll find something healthier."

Mario hesitantly gulped down the last of his juice, deciding to (at the very least) draw out the moments before he inevitably gave in. He sighed, set his glass down and conceded, "Alright." he said, and lifted a hand to wipe at his eyes, "But I have no idea what I'm doing, Jim. You're really going to have to instruct me. I don't really understand what you're looking for exactly... Do I just... punch you or something?"

Jim snorted, and stood to clear away the plates, grabbing Mario's empty glass as well, "No. Do you want to try something out now to kind of get the hang of it?"

Mario frowned, "Aren't we supposed to... negotiate stuff first?"

"And you said you had no idea what you were doing." Jim grinned, looking over his shoulder with some measure of glee as he dumped the dishes into the sink.

"Browsing the internet for a few hours hardly makes me an expert." Mario huffed.

Jim blinked, a bewildered look on his face, "You actually spent a couple hours looking stuff up? For me?"

Mario grumped, "Don't say it like that. I just didn't want to go into anything completely ignorant."

Jim wandered back and took a seat beside Mario, a leg bent up between them and an arm over the back of the sofa, "So what did you learn?"

Mario let himself relax against the cushions with a sigh, "We're supposed to negotiate things... or something. Stuff you like, stuff you dislike, things that are definitely off the table."

"For you too." Jim said determinedly, "What else?"

Mario licked his lips, "I shouldn't use my fingertips when hitting you, you use the palm... and I'm supposed to... take care of you afterword."

Jim smiled, "No fingertips, good, but as far as aftercare, I don't really need it."

Mario frowned and turned his head to finally face Jim, "If we're doing this, that will be one of my ground rules. You have to let me take care of you afterword."

Jim snorted, "Won't that be a little too romantic for you?"

"What about it would be romantic?"

"...The cuddling? Usually aftercare involves some heavy petting and pretty words of encouragement."

Mario frowned again, "I didn't know that. I thought it just meant like... treating any wounds and making sure you're hydrated."

"That too." Jim chuckled, "But that's just part of it." he made a gesture with his hands, "Aftercare is usually a little more of an emotional experience. You're checking in on your partner, and not just with the physical pains. You have to check up on their mental state too."

Mario blinked up at Jim curiously, "Have you done this before?"

"No." he admitted, "Not exactly."

Eyes trained with years of doctoral precision narrowed, "Explain."

Jim sighed, slumping down and letting his leg fall in front of him, both of them now spread wide and relaxed, "Barbara liked to get kinda rough in bed. She introduced the idea once, but after she told me a little more about it... _and we tried it once,_ " he quickly forced out, "I wasn't really interested in doing that with her."

"You didn't trust her."

"I didn't. I shouldn't have even trusted her to let her do the little that she actually did do."

Mario was going to develop a permanently downturned brow if he kept frowning like this, "Did she hurt you?"

"Well that's kind of the point."

"Jim."

"A few slaps, some claws-girl really likes keeping her nails sharp."

"But nothing like what we're talking about."

"No, nothing like that."

Mario nodded, "So. Aftercare will happen. I'll definitely do it, but I don't think it will be very cuddly."

"I would still like the pretty words if you're up for that." Jim said, an the corner of Mario's lips upturned in reply, "I don't want to do anything that would hinder my work. I need to be able to go into the station and appear normal. Harvey will ask if he sees any marks that he didn't watch me catch in a scuffle."

Mario nodded.

"With that, I think maybe nothing too visible. At least, nothing that I can't hide under my clothes."

Mario listened closely, trying to mentally write everything down to make sure he wouldn't forget, "I'd like to add that we do nothing to your face, or anything that would permanently scar." he raised a pointed finger, "Oh, and no internal damage, obviously. Just- nothing that will bring you back to my emergency room. We're not breaking anything."

Jim chortled, "Got it."

"And no sex, obviously."

The detective smiled slyly, "Who suggested sex?"

"It's a common thing with this, isn't it?" Mario asked, cheeks going a little pink to think _he'd_ implied Jim wanted to have sex with him.

"Not necessarily."

"Well... I'm still engaged, so no sex."

Jim raised his hands in surrender, "I got it. Though you might find yourself carried away by the mood sometimes~"

"Fat chance."

"Ah." Jim sighed, "I think I'd like to say no humiliation too. I'm all for praise, in fact, yes please, lots of praise, but none of... _that_."

Mario pressed his lips together, "Does my vocal disinterest bug you?"

He shrugged, "Not really, but I'm supposed to go into a different headspace when we do this. I don't want the reminder that you don't find me at all attractive to ruin it for me halfway in."

"I never said I don't-" he coughed, "Whether or not you're attractive doesn't have anything to do with the fact that I _have a fiance_ , Jim."

Jim's eyes perked up and he sat a little straighter as he smiled at Mario. Damn it, it might have been cute if Mario wasn't trying very hard not to think that way, "Are you saying if you didn't have a fiance you might actually admit you like me?"

"I never said anything even close to that." Mario huffed, "Stop that."

"I'm not doing anything." he preened.

"You're smiling like a kid with a candybar. I didn't say that I liked you."

Jim grinned, "No, you're right, you said I was _attractive_."

"I didn't- For God's sake can we get back to the real issue here?"

"How you're going to tell Lee that you find me irresistable?"

"Gordon, _I will hurt you_."

"Pretty please?" He asked, and Mario gulped.

Idle, bantering threats like that weren't going to be a thing he could say to Jim anymore... were they?

Jim licked his lips once, tongue gliding across the bottom in a quick motion as he stared at Mario. Mario was curious, to say the least, about where this would head. He had never been anything remotely resembling a sadist, so he doubted it would really hold any pleasure for him. Jim though, he might enjoy watching Jim get what he needed, and being able to be the one to give it to him. Mario shifted in his seat a little, trying to ignore how Jim watched him like a hawk, "When you asked if I wanted to try anything today, what did you have in mind?"

Jim's eyes glazed over a little, and Mario watched him trail off into thought before snapping back suddenly and excitedly exclaiming, "Oh, yeah! Choking is on my want list."

Mario blinked, "W- what the hell, Jim?"

"You just reminded me. I was thinking maybe we could do a choke hold. I know one that will put me out for a few seconds but not do damage to my windpipe. You do it from behind too, so I won't fall, and if we kneel on my bed it would be even better. I could-"

"Slow down..." Mario said, lifting a hand to shush him, "I didn't agree to anything yet. I was only asking."

"I'd like to do that. Or have you hit on my torso or something."

"Believe it or not," Mario huffed, shaking his head with disbelief, "I think I'm more comfortable with hitting you than I am _rendering you unconscious_ the first time we try anything."

Jim grinned, "Works for me." and stood, whipping his shirt off with a flourish.

"Whoa- wait-"

"If I keep waiting then you're going to lose your nerve and we'll never get anywhere." He replied, pulling Mario up from the couch by the hand in spite of his protests.

"Wait-"

Jim ignored him, pushing his coffee table to one side of the room while Mario gaped at him, lips floundering open and closed like a startled fish.

" _Now_ ? Right here?"

"Well the bedroom is a lot smaller, and it's really just a bed in there." Jim offered, and smiled at Mario with enough charm to dazzle Gotham's most brutal mobsters as he let his feet drift apart a little, almost in a stance to fight him.

Oh.

"...Are you going to hit me back?"

"No." Jim said, "...Unless that's what you want?"

"No. _I'm_ not a masochist. You just look ready for a fight."

Jim glanced down at his feet and his cheeks turned a little pink before he shifted into a more lax position, "Sorry, I guess that's a work habit. I'm expecting a punch."

Mario hummed, and took a step forward, lifting a hand carefully to Jim's torso but stopping just out of reach, "Is it okay if I show you where I'm going to hit first?"

Jim nodded, breath coming out faster than it had a moment ago, but Mario decided to write it off as exertion from moving the furniture around.

He let his fingers drift up to Jim's side cautiously, touching just below his ribs, the fleshy bit of the torso where muscle and fat were collected. He traced the area slowly, mapping out where he would have to cut himself off to make sure nothing vital got hurt. This was still a dangerous place to hit if he was too hard, "Here will be moderate. If I miss a swing I could hit something vital and hurt you. So I won't hit you too hard here, just in case."

Jim nodded again, and his tongue once more darted out to lick at the corners of his mouth. Mario realized Jim did that whenever he was excited.

Something to note for later.

Mario tried not to get too distracted as he continued on, hand sliding up to Jim's pectorals, "I can hit harder here and up to your shoulder." he said, "You only said torso, should I stick to that area for today, or are your arms alright too?"

"Arms are fine."

"Then here as well." he continued, slipping his fingers along Jim's shoulders down his upper arms and stopping well before the elbow, "This part will probably make your arms ache." he said, and pressed firmly on the meatier part of his forearm.

A small sound escaped Jim's parted lips, but Mario ignored it.

"Turn around."

Mario tried his damndest not to feel too pleased when Jim complied, obediently turning so that his back was now exposed, but there was something thrilling about being the man to finally tame James Gordon. He felt a little surge of power flow through him, and his movements became more confident. Mario hummed appreciatively, and lifted his hand to Jim's shoulder blades, "I can hit here, but you are going to have to tell me if it feels even slightly sharp. I don't want to risk hurting your shoulder blades."

"Okay."

Mario experimentally formed a fist against his back and dragged it downward, starting from near his shoulders. When he gave the area a light, quick punch Jim gasped. "That alright?"

"Yes."

 _And off to the races they went._

He hit again, mindful of his aim and staying as far away from Jim's spine as he could, ever cautious of safety. Jim shuddered and jolted forward a little with the third blow.

"Still alright?" Mario asked again.

"That's perfect..." Jim groaned, and rolled his shoulders once.

"If it feels at all sharp-"

"I'll say red."

Mario paused, "Oh. I'm sorry I forgot about that part. There's supposed to be a signal to stop, isn't there? Red is good."

"It means you don't stop if I say anything but that."

"I'll stop if I think you're really injured." he retorted with a hard slap to Jim's side.

Jim jumped, wincing for a moment before letting his head fall back. "But I'm telling you not to."

"You're not in charge here." Mario reminded, and slapped him once more in the same spot. If Jim asked, he would make an excuse about wanting to see his pain threshold, but while that was true, he'd really done it to watch him squirm. "You're trusting me to do this for you," _you've given me that control over you,_ "so if I say we need to stop then we stop, understood?"

"Yes." Jim answered, taking Mario's next hit with an elated grunt.

Mario tested the waters, slapping some places and punching others, only delivering the really hard ones where he knew Jim had already been warmed up and it would sting less than it would hurt deep in his bones. He dug his knuckles in with the punch to Jim's forearm, because he could, and because Jim howled so prettily. Mario had almost thought he'd been a little too rough, but Jim offered him an appreciative groan afterword so he felt pretty certain he hadn't. "Still alright?"

"Perfect... it's perfect..."

Mario brought a couple fingers up to where he'd hit his arm and pushed them roughly against the reddening spot there, enjoying the way Jim moaned and flinched away before leaning into it a little to encourage more. "You're doing good." Mario said, remembering that part of this was supposed to be to support Jim. He'd asked outright for praise.

He hadn't expected Jim to whimper like that in response to it though... He found himself sucking down a breath, trying not to focus on how lovely it had sounded, falling from Jim's lips. "Really good, Jim." he repeated before he could stop himself.

Jim leaned back against Mario's chest as he reached around to pound a fist over his peck, almost feeling the wind knock out from his chest with the impact.

He watched carefully as they continued, noticing when Jim's knees began to quiver and his legs seemed to slump with the effort to stand up. He was panting, groaning every few minutes like he just couldn't help it, like moaning was the only way he could breathe, "I think we're almost done." Mario said, and pressed into the bruise forming on Jim's arm as he punched the other.

"No..." Jim groaned, low and in the back of his throat, clearly lost in his own pleasure as Mario took him apart. "I want more..."

"Your legs are about to give out."

"Don't care." Jim grunted, "Y'll catch me."

"Will you at least agree to sit down for me? I'll give you a little more if you'll sit down."

Jim whined but nodded, allowing Mario to lead him over to the sofa and push him down. He did so with his hands clasped over his collar bone, thumbs digging into the pressure points there and watching with excitement when Jim keened, almost collapsing onto the couch and reaching up to grab Mario's wrists with a wince, "Still alright?" Mario confirmed when Jim cried out.

" _Yeah_."

"Arms down." Mario instructed, and once again felt overwhelmed with a sudden sense of power- _of deep rooted control_ -when Jim obediently did as he was told.

He hit him two more times in the chest before Jim let out a broken cry, high pitched and desperate, and only when he bucked his hips upward did Mario finally notice the tent in the front of his pants.

He refused to call attention to it, thinking it may embarrass Jim. They talked a little about his headspace, no humiliating him, and Mario didn't want to. Jim was doing good, he didn't deserve to be humiliated. Mario knew well enough that it was likely to happen; he was attracted to Mario after all, and getting hurt seemed to bring him some kind of pleasure. It really wasn't that surprising of a reaction.

What _was_ surprising was Mario's sudden desperate need to see him completely satisfied. "What about biting?" he breathed out, staring at the strain Jim's erection was putting on his jeans.

"Yes!" Jim exclaimed, letting his head fall back against the sofa to voluntarily expose his neck. "Yes, please!"

Mario groaned before he could think better of it, never having been offered such a display before in his life. He'd had plenty of bed partners, male and female, but never had someone just give him their control as enthusiastically as Jim was. He shook his head with a chuckle, "I'm not going to bite you there. Your co workers would see it."

Jim whined but Mario stayed strong, ducking down to a knee instead and bringing his mouth down on the corner of Jim's pectoral, near the bellybutton where he knew a sensitive point was. In order to get at it properly he'd had to slip himself between Jim's legs, chest pressed against Jim's hard on unashamedly.

But again, Mario tried not to think about it.

He didn't chide Jim away when he grinded upward, even though he really should have. He had just convinced himself to man up and tell Jim to knock it off when the detective let out an unearthly and _frustratingly sexy_ groan, fingers clutching onto Mario's shoulders as he came in his pants.

"Oh my God! Oh my God, I'm so sorry." Jim balked, wiggling backward and up the couch, "I didn't mean to do that."

"Jim, it's fine." Mario reassured him, actually grinning a little, and stood to head to the kitchen for water, "I figured that would happen."

"You bit me." Jim grinned lazily, "It felt good. I didn't know it could feel good to be bit on the stomach."

"It's a sensitive point, but _orgasming in your pants_ from that definitely makes you a kinky guy, Jim. If anyone had tried to tell me a few weeks ago that you were this freaky I never would have believed them."

"I don't make a habit of shouting it from the rooftops." he huffed.

"Not an exhibitionalist then?" Mario grinned, wandering back over with two glasses filled from the tap.

Jim accepted his tiredly, but it fell to his lap instead of rising to his lips, "Are you offering? Because I might make an exception just for you."

"No. Now drink that, you need it." He ordered, nodding towards the glass.

Jim groaned, head rolling back against the couch head, "Too tired."

"I'd threaten to hit you again, but you'd like that." Mario smirked, "What if I threatened _not_ to hit you again?"

Jim hastily drank two sips from the glass before Mario was completely finished talking.

"You're something else." he said fondly before taking a drink from his own.

"You like it." Jim smiled, and Mario couldn't deny it.

He did like Jim. He pulled the glass away from his fingers diligently and set it aside. Jim was extremely pliant as Mario maneuvered him around, finally settling them in a position where Jim had his head rested on Mario's thigh, Mario's hand in his hair to commence with the 'heavy petting' as he combed over Jim's body to check him out and make sure everything was still okay. He told Jim what a good job he had done, and Jim smiled lazily up at him.

"You too." Jim murmured, "You were _great_."

Mario smiled, "Good. I'm glad. Do you think you got what you needed?"

"Ask me after I nap." Jim grinned, and rubbed his face against Mario's leg.

Mario let him, and continued to run his hand through Jim's hair even after he drifted off.


	4. Chapter 4

"You know, I don't think Alaska would have sharks."

Mario groaned, raising a hand to his head with a sigh while Jim brought him his coat. "You're still doing this?"

"What else am I supposed to do?" he asked coyly, handing it over with a smirk.

Mario slipped his arms into the sleeves and shrugged the material over his shoulders, "Not think about my honeymoon plans with your ex girlfriend?"

"Ah, but that's no fun. I have to get a rise out of you somehow."

"You're ridiculous." Mario huffed, and put his hand on the doorknob, "Thank you for letting me stay here last night."

Jim laughed, "You're kidding right? Thank _you_ for staying... and for the other thing."

Mario smirked, "Right. The other thing. Don't get yourself hurt at work for the next few days and maybe it'll happen again."

Jim smiled, following him to the door, "I'd like that. I'll just tell all the criminals to keep their mitts off for a few days. I'm sure they'll understand."

Mario snorted from the hall, Jim propped up against the doorframe, "Just don't intentionally put yourself into shitty situations and we'll call it square."

"I was always more of a circle guy, myself."

"I hate you."

"No you don't."

"You're right, but I really should." Mario grinned and waved over his shoulder, "Bye, Jim."

"Later, Mario."

* * *

When Mario made it to the front steps of his house, the one he currently shared with Lee Thompkins, he hesitated before turning the key in the lock.

She wasn't home.

Mario wasn't exactly disappointed.

He fixed himself a drink, a shot or two of whiskey in his glass before he sat down on the couch with a sigh. "What am I doing?" he asked himself, and took a grumbling sip of self hate.

He'd actually enjoyed his time with Jim, even the other thing... actually, _especially_ the other thing. He'd liked that far more than he thought he would. Not only would he be okay with doing it again, Mario was excited to. He was already imagining the kinds of things they could try, maybe less limited forms of punishment... maybe some bondage. He'd always been a fan of bondage, even though Lee was always a little hesitant about it in bed. She'd never enjoyed it nearly as much as he had, on the giving _or_ receiving end.

Jim would.

Jim's gaspy breaths and elated groans had been such a pleasant sound to Mario's ears, he almost felt ashamed. It wasn't cheating, even if it may have felt like it. His responding lust felt like it.

Not only did Lee know it was happening, but she'd given the okay. They weren't sleeping together, it was just an exchange of... whatever. Pain, pleasure, either/or. It was for Jim to get better, to help his mental health and keep him from serious self inflicted injuries. I _t was to help Jim_.

So Mario shouldn't be getting off on it.

The orgasm wasn't Mario's issue. Someone else's bodily reaction wasn't his problem. That didn't make him a cheater and it didn't make him unfaithful to Lee in any way.

But it did make him wonder...

Mario had liked it too much. He'd gotten drunk on the power that came from their exchange and been almost as high as Jim after watching him cum in his pants like a wound up teenager. He wanted to see it again, admittedly. Images of Jim straining on the couch, back arched, grinding against Mario's chest and begging for release plagued his brain with devious intent. Jim had been panting and groaning like that _for Mario._

 _Because of_ _Mario_.

The more he thought about it, the more Mario wanted it. He wanted to see more of Jim's desperate writhing, wanted to hear him beg for it-because he knew Jim would. Jim would do it happily, even.

Mario groaned in spite of himself, peeking down at the slowly growing tent in his pants with unease.

He really shouldn't. He shouldn't be getting off on the idea of dominating Jim Gordon.

...But he did.

Mario pulled himself out of his pants on autopilot, hissing when his cold fingers touched his warm length. He let his eyes close, and focused on those bright, flickering images in his mind. Jim's gasp, the writhe, the moan, the way he'd panted out Mario's name and begged...

It didn't take long to get close, just thinking about the little taste he'd gotten to see. It had been erotic, despite his self-musings and attempted denial, to work Jim up to that point. He wanted to do it again, watch it all again, see _more_.

Mario's hand worked faster, up and down the shaft with a tight fist. He was right there, needed one more little shove-

Mario imagined Jim fucking himself on Mario's fingers, how tight he might be, how much louder those little moans he'd heard would become when he fucked him. He imagined biting down on Jim's neck again, this time from behind, leaving a huge mark on his skin, one that would be visible to everyone at the station. A mark of claim and dominance.

He came in a couple short, strong bursts, a groan punched out of him in a short breath.

Fuck.

 _That_ was what he wanted? He wanted to _claim_ Gordon? How fucking conceited of him, maybe twisted was the better word for it.

Mario sighed as the remnants of his post-orgasm high quickly left him, leaving only the dread of what he'd just done. _He'd just jerked off to the idea of Jim fucking Gordon_. His fiance's ex, the man who should be his enemy or at least his competitor. He'd gotten off to the idea of dominating him, of making him Mario's- _claiming him_ , Jesus!

Mario reached over to grab up his abandoned drink, downed the entire thing with a wince, and stood up to fix himself another before he could return to the thoughts of a writhing Jim Gordon.

* * *

They met up many more after that. They tried new things most of the time, implements bought from the internet, something Jim found in the store that looked like fun, even household items that _definitely_ weren't intended for how Jim and Mario used them. Mario would hit him, spank him, flog him, whatever the night called for, then stick around to take care of him and talk him down. He put cream over welts, sometimes sanitized little cuts where hits broke skin, and was always sure to check for any major injury.

Jim never used his safeword, never really needed it, and Mario made it a point to learn his reactions because of it.

He got used to Jim's little tell-tale twitches and learned what each different sound meant after being dragged out from his throat.

Usually they met up to play at Jim's encouragement, shooting Mario a text and admitting he'd had a horrible day and just needed some relief, but sometimes it was Mario, after having not spoken with Lee for a few consecutive days, feeling lonely and willing to hit some things.

Luckily Jim was more than willing to supply an outlet.

Lee and Mario's schedules started to overlap in ways that left one at home while the other was out, or only able to catch each other as one was headed out the door. She took extra hours at the GCPD and Mario tried not to notice. He agreed to more overtime than he originally would have, and she didn't say a word. They didn't text more than a handful of times over a few weeks.

 _Hey. I miss you._

 _Work was a clusterfuck today._

 _We need milk._

 _I won't be home until tomorrow. Remember to lock the door after you go._

 _My mother wants to pick up her pie dish, I won't be home._

 _We need eggs._

 _Don't get eggs. I'm going to start eating breakfast at the diner._

 _I don't need dinner._

 _Hey._

 _Hey._

 _I think I might have two hours free on Tuesday for a lunch._

 _I won't be free at all Tuesday._

 _Hey._

 _We need milk._

Mario turned to Jim. He was starting to feel a little pushed away and needed to know that he was still wanted. Jim still wanted him around.

Jim was more than happy to have him over. Sometimes they played, sometimes they just sat on the couch and watched the news. A few times James had even brought up a couple of his cases, discussing the difficulties he was having and every now and then poking Mario for some advice. That bit had surprised him the most, that Jim trusted him enough to really get into some of his casework and even ask for his opinion.

Of course, he shouldn't have been all that surprised. Jim trusted him enough to tie him down and hit him with a belt, why not a little chatter?

"I just want to know why they edit it to have so little actual shark footage." Jim said, seating beside Mario on the couch, knees touching and Mario's arm over the back behind his head, "It's really just a lot of guys sitting around in boats, you know?"

Mario laughed, "You can show me all the documentaries you want, but it won't cure my fear, Jim."

Jim snorted, and scooted in a little closer, "Well, you can't blame a guy for trying."

Mario smiled, noting the lesser space between them and not caring to mention it. He nodded towards the popcorn bowl on Jim's other side, "Feel like sharing?"

He smirked, "I dunno, doctor." and lifted the bowl onto his lap, within Mario's reach, "I'm pretty hungry."

"Keep it then." Mario said, but tapped Jim's other shoulder with his finger one, light and fleeting.

Jim, bless his heart, actually turned his head. Mario grabbed a fistful and brought it over into his own lap before popping one into his mouth with a smug smile.

"I can't believe I fell for that."

"I can't either. You're a _detective_."

Jim grinned, "I guess I've got to work on that. The unsuspecting detective and the doctor that hurts people, aren't we a pair?"

"I don't hurt people," Mario said, and nudged his arm, "I hurt _you_ , and _you_ ask for it," he smirked, "Sometimes you even beg, real prettily."

Leaning over coyly, Jim looked up at him from under his lashes, a cocky little smirk on his lips, "Prettily, huh?"

"You know it, don't even pretend."

He shrugged, still smiling, "Maybe. It's nice to hear you say so though."

"I compliment you plenty." Mario huffed, and ate a little more of his tiny popcorn puddle.

"You do, but I'm a sucker for praise."

Mario grinned sinfully, "Oh, I know. You came all over your bedspread after I called you a good boy."

"You spanked me within in inch of my life then told me to jerk myself off. Forgive me for having a sex drive." Jim huffed, pouting around his next bite, eyes trained defiantly on the TV screen.

"We agreed, no sex, Jim." Mario snorted, "You knew that, day one. Don't pout because I won't take my dick out when we play."

Jim squirmed a little in his seat, "But you let me get off. You get to see me naked."

"It's not meant to be sexual."

"I repeat, _you let me get off_. Sometimes you even tell me to."

"Allow me to rephrase, it's not meant to be sexual for _me_." Mario sighed, not too frustrated, but enough to feel an itch in the hand he uses to discipline Jim, "We do this so that you get what you need."

Jim clicked the TV off and tossed the remote onto the coffee table, turning where he sat to bodily face Mario, leg up on the couch and popcorn bowl set aside, "What about what _you_ need?"

Mario frowned, "What are you talking about?"

"What are you getting out of this? Besides maybe a beer or breakfast in the morning?"

Mario looked down at Jim's barefoot, he had a habit of curling his toes when he was frustrated and Mario wanted to properly gauge his reactions. It was his job after all, ever since they started this. "I don't need anything Jim. Beer and eggs are fine."

Ah. There it was. Jim's toes curled.

"I want to give you something. You spend hours here afterword, taking care of me or just hanging around to make sure. It's all entirely one sided. Maybe you don't need anything, but _I_ need to give you something in return."

Mario pressed his lips together, lifting his eyes to Jim's, looking at his pleading expression, "I like just doing this, Jim. I like getting to relax here. I set aside real time to do that because of you. I enjoy just sitting here and watching TV, eating popcorn. I get to make fun of your commentary. I get your companionship out of it."

Jim blinked, obviously surprised, "My companionship?"

"Is that enough?"

He looked down, "Okay. If that's really all you want."

 _Anything else I want I just can't ask for._

"It is." he said instead, "I love doing this. Almost as much as I like spanking you to tears."

Jim snorted, and started to relax, laying back against the other end of the couch and lifting his feet up to put in Mario's lap, "And you say you're not a sadist."

Mario grinned, and watched the popcorn bowl move well out of reach but felt no real need to complain, "You bring it out in me."

Jim smiled, and handed Mario the remote, "You pick what we watch. I'm bored with Shark Week anyway."

Mario took it gratefully with the hand that had been previously settled over the back of the couch. He flipped through a few channels before settling, and let his arm fall until his hand rested in his lap, just over Jim's legs.

His phone chimed a few minutes later, a text from Lee. He fished it out of his pocket regretfully, holding Jim's legs to his thighs with the other hand so that he wouldn't dislodge him, and thumbed in his passcode.

 _I'll be home tonight._

He frowned, understanding that she was trying to offer him an olive branch here. The thing was, Mario wasn't interested anymore. He was having fun here with Jim, and he was sure that if he went, not only would he disappoint Jim, but he'd only be coming home to a bitter, stiff attempt at reconciliation. The rest of his night would be terse and probably quiet. He didn't want that.

Mario didn't need that.

He lifted his head, "Can I stay here tonight?"

"Yeah, of course." Jim smiled, "Keeping an eye on me after that awesome new toy?"

Mario honestly hadn't been thinking of that. They'd used some new things tonight, sure, but he hadn't gone hard and Jim was as perky as ever. He was confident that he could leave and Jim would be fine with a check up text in the morning... but that would make the perfect excuse. He'd shared some details with Lee about their encounters, an exercise of trust. Of course, he hadn't shared everything for the sake of Jim's privacy, but she knew enough. He could tell her about the new toy and she probably wouldn't blink an eye.

"Yeah." he said, and sent his return text.

 _I'm staying at Jim's. We used a cane tonight, new implement. I want to stick around to make sure he's okay._

Mario stopped waiting for the reply after the second hour, and let Jim sweep him away into the bedroom to lie down, sleep with strong arms around his waist in comfort, and forget all about it.

* * *

Lee came to visit him at his work two days later.

Mario hadn't seen her since their fight, just before he'd left to see Jim. He hadn't had the chance to talk about it with her, but now that he _did_ , he was nervous beyond belief... maybe even scared.

Her heels clicked along the hard, tile flooring of the hospital as she strode up to him. There was something in her eyes that startled him, a deep rooted confidence and determination that, whenever he saw it, seemed to spell out trouble. He smiled politely towards her, pushing off from the nurse's station to properly greet her, "Lee. Good to see you."

It wasn't.

"Mario," she said curtly, "Can we talk?"

Fuck.

"Yeah, sure." he turned towards one of the nurses with a kind smile, "Hold my calls for a moment? I'll try to be quick."

The nurse nodded, flashing him an equally subdued smile before fiddling with something on the computer. Mario looked to Lee, jerked his head in the direction of a private room and lead the way to discretion. She followed silently. Her face was tight.

"So, what did you want to talk about?" Mario asked casually after the door had shut, "It couldn't have waited until tonight?"

Her eyes narrowed, "We're never there at the same time anymore, it seems. This was quicker."

Mario frowned, "Quicker?"

"I didn't want to drag anything out anymore." Lee replied, and looked down at her hands where they were wringing together, "You were right, Mario."

Mario followed the movement, lifting his eyes only to stare at her, confused, "Okay... what about?"

She sighed, a shaky little breath that showed how nervous she was, maybe sad even, and Mario felt it coming even before he saw her slip his engagement ring off of her finger.

He didn't let himself say anything, letting her bring his hand closer to her own, and pushing it into his palm.

"I do still love him. I don't think I'll ever stop. Some part of me will always love Jim Gordon and that's... it's not fair to you, or to him, or to any of us."

Mario blinked, her hand retracting and her legs shifting back, like she was already trying to run away, "Lee-"

"I think it's clear I don't have a place here anymore." she said, "You two... it's a much better fit. I think you really... bring something out in each other. I can see it. It's not fair of me to hold you back just because I'm a little jealous."

"Lee, you don't have to be-"

"No, I know. I'm sure if we tried, we could work this out. I just don't think that's what I want anymore."

"Lee-"

"Your... connection with him is still sort of new, but Mario, I saw him yesterday." she sighed, wistfully, and lifted her chin to smile at him, "At the precinct. We had coffee together and he looked so much better than he did a month ago. What you two do, it really helps him. I couldn't have ever..."

"That doesn't mean you have to leave, Lee."

"I could also see that he really cares for you, Mario." she retorted, maybe a little bitter, "You two need the room to grow right now, and I still care for you, our relationship is holding all three of us back. We don't love each other the way we thought he did. As cliche as it is, I think we're better off as friends."

He scoffed, and his fist clenched around the ring, "...You should still keep this. We could take a break and just-"

"Mario." she said, pointedly, stern, like trying to convince a child of the reasons they should eat their vegetables, "I know you know that it's over. I'm not going to take all the blame for this breakup just so that you feel better about yourself."

Mario glared at the floor. He knew she was right. It was time and this ending had been coming for a while... but it still hurt. A little part of him still wanted to try and offer the olive branch, and he wanted her to squash that for him. He wanted Lee to make him feel like his evolving relationship (and at this point, yes, it was a relationship, there was nothing else to call it) with Jim wasn't the straw to topple the scales. He'd been just as much a part of this as her.

"I'll send for my things later, but I'm going to leave tomorrow." she said, no longer interested in waiting for his retort, "Gotham... it's too dark. This place crushes dreams and makes people into horrible things. I need to go. You can keep the coffee table, you always liked it far more than I did."

Mario waited until the door clicked shut behind her, until he was alone, to let out a breath and a hollow, dead laugh. He never loosened his grip around the ring, but with the fist he had coiled to hold it, Mario broke whatever was within reach, punched the wall, and held it to his face with hurt frustration as he sunk to the floor.


	5. Chapter 5

Mario burst through Jim's door as soon as it opened. He ignored Jim's startled questions, quickly slipping off his coat and stepping right up into Gordon's personal space with a sneer, "On your knees." he commanded, and saw the moment Jim tensed, eyes wide and pupils starting to blow wide as he realized what was about to happen, " _Now_ , Jim."

Jim dropped obediently in an instant, and Mario tried to ignore the loud thud of his knees hitting the hard floor, knowing it must've hurt. Jim didn't let on to his pain, didn't make any movement to complain, and instead looked up at Mario expectantly, like a trained dog waiting for his master's next command, able to see the treat in hand.

"Shirt, off."

Jim obeyed.

He'd answered the door barefoot, dressed in one of the T-shirts that formed his figure _unfairly_ well and a pair of comfortable jeans. Mario acknowledged Jim tossing the shirt onto the couch haphazardly as Mario made a beeline for Jim's bedroom, grabbing the discreet duffle they kept near the bed quickly before stomping right back out to the living room. Jim was waiting patiently for him, still on his knees, his back to the bedroom.

Mario unceremoniously dropped the duffle onto the coffee table with a thunk, lapped up the little flinch Jim gave him for it.

"Cuffs." he said, still digging around for the tanned leather set Jim had purchased a few weeks ago.

Jim's hands immediately went to his back, crossed at the wrists in a practiced motion. They hadn't really discussed the few cues that had slowly developed over their time together, they'd formed from habit. At first Mario would have tell him to move his arms back for cuffs, then Jim started to move them back automatically whenever he saw Mario approach with them, now he only had to say the word and Jim reverted to that pose. Every time he saw it, the familiar thrill of power shot up Mario's spine like a volt of electricity.

He crouched down behind Jim to clip them in place, not bothering to mess with the locks and key today, just the standard pinch-clip together at the rings. Mario tugged on them once to make sure they were secure and comfortable, and Jim nodded to affirm that they were.

As soon as it was done Mario was up and moving again. He made his way back to the duffle and pulled out the first thing his hands came in contact with.

Which wasn't exactly lucky for Jim.

The little cane was thin as a pencil, plastic, and delivered a sting like you wouldn't believe. Jim had found it in some store he and Bullock had needed to investigate for a case. When he'd brought it to Mario, he'd thought Jim was putting him on, but apparently there was a wide array of odd toys out there meant for different types of pain. Mario liked using the thin cane for little specks of flavor amongst the usual thuds that Jim often preferred. It was good for teasing, for snapping between Jim's thighs to get him to open wider, but not necessarily meant for wailing like he planned to do tonight. It could hold, certainly, but it would probably be unpleasant.

It nipped at the skin like sharp, tiny, bites, and rose little strips of flesh pink like claw marks.

Mario started with a smack to the upper arm. One nick, two, another smack to the other arm, back and forth until Jim started moving around with it, almost trying to shy away from the sting.

It was good, satisfying some of the desire Mario had welling up inside him. He needed to hurt, and while this gave him some relief, Mario needed more. He wanted to use his hands.

He rounded Jim, crouching down in front of him and holding the thin toy up horizontally near his mouth.

"Open." he said, and Jim did, not caring to question him, with just a small flicker of curiosity in his eyes, "Keep it there, Jim. Hold it for me."

Jim's eyes slowly fell shut, and Mario nodded with contentment.

He returned to the back, balling his hand into a fist as he chose where he wanted to hit. He ran his knuckle roughly down the right side of Jim's spine, almost to the point of digging in. Jim would feel it, but it wouldn't exactly hurt. Not like the punch just below the shoulder blade would.

Jim jerked forward a little with the first hit, and Mario clapped a palm over his shoulder to keep him still. Jim knew to lean into the punches, they'd done this enough times, but Mario didn't feel like reminding him of that common knowledge again tonight. Instead he held him there, punched a few more times, forgetting to be careful of his knuckles with the first two hits before correcting his mistake and offering some reprieve.

When he pulled away, Jim was panting, eyes squeezed shut and teeth clamped tightly around the little cane. He was doing good.

Mario didn't say so.

He knew he should have, Jim got off on the praise, but something wicked and angry jerked in his gut. Mario felt the need to push tonight. He wanted to see Jim fight for it, to work through the parts he wouldn't like so much, to see if he'd take it for Mario.

Truthfully, he already knew he would.

"Thank you." he said instead, as he took the cane back from Jim's mouth.

He could see the crease in Jim's brow, the unmistaken absence of his well-earned praise coming into question, but he kept his head down and said nothing.

 _Let's see how long he can hold out without it._

Mario wasn't feeling kind tonight. He wanted to see him struggle. Mario wanted to feel completely in control tonight. He needed to be completely in control over everything. Every little detail here. He used a finger from either hand to hook into Jim's jeans before yanking them down to the knee, underwear with them.

Jim made a noise, strangled and a little desperate, but Mario carried on as if he hadn't heard it.

He got the desired reaction. Jim squirmed. His eyebrows lifted in a bout of self pity, fingers clenching into a loose fist behind his back, displeased, but too obedient to say anything. It often surprised Mario how a man so headstrong and take-no-shit during the day could be so submissive and relenting when the lights went down. He loved it, realizing that he was one of the very few (if any) that knew Jim like this; one of the privileged people in Jim's life who knew that he was even capable of it.

Mario touched the cane to Jim's spine, dragging it downward in a soft line until he reached the dip just before his ass, teasing a further trek before whipping it away and smacking a cheek _hard_.

Jim gasped, wincing as Mario laid into him with hit after hit. Jim's skin was glowing by the time he was done, scarlet red and still singing with the sting of each smack. Jim's thighs were trembling and he'd bent over a little at the waist, head down and panting. He gave him only a moment to recover, then tapped over the same burning spot on his left cheek three more times just to be a sadist.

Jim was groaning like the noises were being wrung out of him, drawn up from his throat until the air left him on the tail end of every moan. He'd gasp for breath, shut his eyes and draw up his brows in a look of pleasant desperation.

" _Please_..." he begged, eyes just a little wet at the corners.

Mario was almost tempted to see if he could make him cry.

"Please, what?" he said instead, and pressed the cane underneath Jim's jaw to tilt his head up, forcing him to look up and into Mario's heated gaze.

Mario leveled him with the most dominant look he could think to pull, a stoic settlement bordering on ice cold, laced with just a bit of well practiced disdain, and Jim whined, " _Please-_ "

"What do you want, Jim?" Mario replied, shaking his head, "I want you to tell me exactly."

Jim shut his eyes, because asking for praise wasn't how he did it. Jim would work and work for it, even if his hard work went unnoticed in the long run, he would keep at it. Jim never asked for it. Never voiced his need to be told what a good job he'd done, both inside the bedroom and out of it. Mario wanted to make him say it out loud, to be the only one that Jim actually asks for gratification. Some deep seeded root inside of him selfishly wanted to be the only one that Jim could turn to for this. He wants to make Jim need him so badly he'll never want to leave.

Like Lee did.

Like girlfriends and boyfriends _before_ Lee did.

Like he's sure Jim will when he wises up.

"Say it for me, James." he snapped, and smacked the meat of his arm with the cane.

Jim flinched, but breathed through the sting after an initial hiss, "I... I want..."

Mario ducked into a crouch, taking Jim's chin into his hand and pulling him up close, moving his mouth just shy of Jim's ear to whisper, "Tell me how badly you want to hear what a good boy you are."

Jim keened, struggling in his cuffs and shifting forward on his knees, pressing against Mario like he was desperate for the contact. Mario wondered, if his wrists weren't restrained behind his back, if Jim would have wrapped his arms around him.

He licked the skin just below Jim's lobe before he could think better of it, "Tell me, Jim. You want to be praised, don't you?"

Jim nodded, brows furrowed frustratedly, "Yeah..."

" _Say it_."

He choked, "I want... I want you to tell me I'm doing good." he finally admitted, breath rushing out of him with the words and leaving him looking slightly dazed, almost amazed with himself for being able to actually word his desires.

Mario grinned, " _Good_ , Jim. That was really good."

He slipped his hand from chin to cheek, cradling Jim's face in his palm almost tenderly, and Jim sighed, eyes lidded and heavy with bliss.

The image reminded Mario of the night he'd proposed to Lee, having cradled her face in a similar fashion after she'd said yes. Memories of her promises that she would always be there with Mario sparked a train of others, previous lovers, friends, even his father, who was hardly there when Mario was a boy. Maybe there were some abandonment issues hiding away that Mario had been ignoring, but he didn't want to sit and think about it tonight. He didn't want to become a sobbing mess after being left behind yet again.

He stood from his couch swiftly.

"Tell me you need this." he said, and dropped the cane to the floor in favor of rubbing his hands down Jim's back, the soft run of the pads of his fingers curling into the scratch of his nails halfway down. "Tell me how much, Jim."

The man gasped, squirming forward and bending almost in half, face a few inches off the floor.

Mario followed him down, now on his knees behind him, palms still roaming over his back, " _Tell me_."

"I need it," he panted out, "I need it so bad, _Mario_ -"

He punched both sides of his upper back, fists curled and brought down like a gorilla's. He listened to the sound of air being forced out of Jim's lungs, the breathy, giggly exhale that followed, and decided he needed more. Mario chased sound after sound like they were drugs and he'd developed a desperate addiction. He needed to hear Jim's pleasure to keep himself sane. He hit again. And again. Until Jim was sinking down to the floor, legs still bent on either side of himself.

Mario hadn't even realized he had a clothed erection pressed up against Jim's ass until Jim started to squirm.

 _Fuck_.

He could do it too, couldn't he?

Mario could fuck Jim right now and he would let him, welcome it even. Mario shifted so that the tent of his pants lined up perfectly with the crack of Jim's ass, grinding forward a few times just to drive the point home to himself. He _could_ do it. Jim whined desperately, pushing back against Mario in such a reckless and uncoordinated motion that Mario wondered if it was even intentional. Maybe he'd just done it subconsciously... maybe he was just that needy for it...

 _That_ was a deliciously sinful thought now, wasn't it?

He had his pants unzipped before he could help himself, sighing when he finally wrapped a hand around the erection he hadn't been expecting. Then again, he hadn't expected a lot of developments recently, why should this be any different?

Mario curiously touched the head to the glowing red of Jim's ass cheek, groaning gratefully when Jim made a strangled noise, jerking away for the smallest of moments before coming back to press against him with renewed vigor. It was slightly more hesitant than the last press had been, Jim most likely coming to fully realize what was going down behind him.

"Mario?"

He laid himself out over Jim in a sudden rush of need to feel skin on skin. Mario had never been overtly sexual, or at all as needy as he felt right now, but we welcomed the change by fanning the flame; dropping his mouth to bite rough teeth marks into Jim's shoulders, slip a hand down over his hip and grind forward, a mere inward push away from a warm, welcoming hole.

"Mario, you're-"

"Really fucking hard." he said, breathy and elated, still nipping at Jim's back with the intent to mark every little bit of skin that crossed his path.

He'd make an artwork of it, create a painting of scattered teeth marks, hickeys and the bruises from their scene. Jim, his living canvas, wriggled and squirmed beneath him, sometimes arching up into his mouth and other times shying away with a slightly pained squeak. Mario held him still by the hips, rutting against the cleft of his ass as he worked.

The head of his dick caught _just for a second_ on the rim of Jim's hole and Mario groaned outright, loud and lustful, against Jim's marred back. He could just... just push _right in._ Mario could take Jim like this, on the floor, writhing underneath him and beautifully marked. He touched the head against that waiting hole just once more, finding it as sweat-slippery as the rest of his skin. Mario felt the temptation, if he only pushed-

"Red!" Jim gasped, and the words came down on Mario like a sudden bucket of ice water, shocking him into awareness.

He froze immediately, forcing himself to stop everything he was doing and assess the situation, to come back to the moment.

Jim had never safeworded before... Mario felt panic envelop him, pulling back and running a hand over Jim's back.

"Jim? Are you alright? Talk to me."

Jim whimpered, "I'm okay, just... uncuff me, please."

Mario set to work immediately, fingers even fumbling with the cinch nervously a few times. God he'd just... he'd just tried to _stick his dick_ in Jim without any sort of discussion, hadn't he? What the hell. He watched Jim sit up from his (extremely uncomfortable looking) position and turn onto his side, legs spread out from their curl with a sigh of relief. Mario hadn't even paid attention to how long he'd been on his knees like that, now thinking about it.

He sunk down to pull Jim up into his arms, saddened and contrite beyond belief.

"Jim..." Mario breathed, burying his face in the sweaty mop of his hair, "I'm sorry. I went too far, I- I'm _so_ , so sorry-"

"No." Jim blurted out, wrapping his arms around Mario carefully, "It's what the red word's for. You're..." he gasped, the stinging pain of his backside stealing his breath before he could finish, "You're fine, Mario."

"I'm not _fine_ Jim." he said, almost outraged on Jim's behalf, "I just... I hurt you and then I... God, Jim... if you never wanted to speak to me again, I'd completely understand."

Jim huffed, "You're making it sound like you tried to rape me."

Mario looked up at him sadly.

"You _didn't_ Mario." he snapped, rough and defensive, "Mario, _any_ other time I would have said yes a hundred times over, you _know_ that. I would _love_ to have sex with you, but it's you that always says no. I could tell you were off from the moment you stepped through my door and I should have said something... but _that_ was what really let me know you weren't in the right mindset for any of that tonight. That's the only reason I safeworded."

Mario felt like breaking down, but settled for burying his face against Jim's neck and blithering out a slew of words, "Lee and I split up. She came by my office and gave me back my ring. All the nurses saw her and then... then _I broke things_ , Jim. I destroyed an office. I was angry and... I came here. I took that out on you. I could have broken _you_ , oh God, I am _so_ sorry."

"So that's what it was." Jim sighed, and brought a hand up to the back of Mario's head, "You wouldn't have ever seriously hurt me, Mario. Do you want to talk about it?"

Mario almost couldn't believe Jim would be so careful of him, cradling him with such tender touches, letting him work through it all... after what he'd just put him through. He _almost_ couldn't believe it. If Mario didn't know Jim like he did, didn't understand that he had always been and always would be a self sacrificing, determined son of a bitch, he might have thought differently. But this was Gotham's finest detective, the one good egg in the nest, and Mario shouldn't have expected anything else.

He pulled back, a determined look on his face, "Only if you let me care for you while I do. I... really _am_ _so_ sorry, Jim."

"I know." he said, a light, understand smile spreading across his flushed features, "We'll work through it. I never really explained what going into this with anger can do..."

"I should have known better."

"But you didn't. That's not your fault."

Mario lifted his fingers to trace a bruise sprouting along Jim's forearm, and Jim sucked in a breath, "These are going to hurt for a while."

"Good." Jim snorted, "That's how I like them."

"Jim..." Mario said, hesitantly and keeping his eyes trained on the bruise, fingers still lightly brushing over it in patterns. He sighed, then tapped his arm, "Come on, lets get you to the couch to lie back."

"I'm okay." Jim insisted, but let Mario drag him up into his arms anyway, the couch a very welcome change from the rough wood floors.

Mario kissed his temple contritely, rubbed along his shoulder, let Jim rest in the crook of his arm. Jim hummed appreciatively before placing a hand carefully on Mario's thigh, "Thank you."

Mario snorted, "You really don't need to be thanking me. I should be thanking _you_ for being so understanding. And forgiving."

"Sometimes feelings take over common sense." Jim said, "It happens. I'm not going to be upset with you about it. It'd be pretty hypocritical of me anyway. I'm very much driven by the things I want." His hand squeezed Mario's thigh.

Mario inhaled sharply, "I... I think I'm only now coming to realize what I want."

Jim hummed, and nuzzled his face into where it rested on Mairo's chest, "What do you want?"

He paused, thoughtful, "I..." Mario started, "I want to kiss you."

Jim grinned, and leaned up to plant a kiss on Mario's mouth. Mario kept him close though, didn't let him flee like he always did when he dropped his little surprise kisses on Mario. This wasn't meant to be a chaste peck, Mario wanted to _kiss_ Jim; kiss him like his life depended on it, like they might die if they didn't. He wanted to kiss Jim in a way that would leave him breathless and panting. He wanted to apologize with his lips, convey all the emotions he was feeling right then in one messy smash of their lips...

So he did.

When he finally let Jim loose enough to wriggle free and take shallow breaths between them, Jim stared at him, eyes a little wide. He clearly hadn't been expecting that kind of a kiss from Mario. He'd always been the one to initiate anything, probably thought Mario only wanted another light peck like he always gave... but after the initial shock faded out, Mario could see the hunger replace it.

"You... uh."

"Yeah." Mario laughed, short and breathy.

Jim nodded once, more to himself really, to confirm that this was really happening, that _Mario_ had kissed _him_.

"I wouldn't mind doing that again." he said, and Mario grinned.

He leaned forward with his hands cupping Jim's cheeks, "I want... I'd like to fuck you too." he swallowed, "If you'd let me..."

Jim made a desperate sound and pushed Mario back until he was almost sinking into the couch, kicking a leg up and over until he was straddling him. " _Yes_. Yes, that is _more than_ okay with me."

Mario surged up to connect their mouths again, desperate to know what it was like to kiss Jim with the man sitting astride his lap. He wanted to feel Jim grind against him, wanted to lick into his mouth and taste Jim's moans of pleasure. He broke apart fast, needing to make sure all the air was clear, "I- I wasn't really thinking _right now_. Are you sure, with- after playing-?"

Jim groaned, rocking his hips down to meet Mario's, "It's gonna feel even better to get fucked like this. I know you wanted to take care of me, but you can do that afterword. You can consider this part of my aftercare if you really want to."

Mario laughed, breathless, and held fast to Jim's _still moving_ waist, "You're such a masochist."

"And you're my sadist." he smiled, letting his arms slip down until they were chest to chest, "It's the perfect match."

"You're also a romantic sap."

"You like it that way."

"God help me, I really, really do." Mario sighed, he let his fingers dig into the warm skin of Jim's ass, reveling in the pained whimper Jim gave him in reply, "I like it all. I like that you let me be a sadist, that you love it."

Jim let his head fall to the side, eyelids fluttering shut as he mirrored Mario's words, "I love it all. Wanna..." he grunted, feeling Mario thrust up against him, "wanna be good. For you."

"Do you want me to fuck you as hard as I hit you?" Mario asked, sure that he already knew the answer, really asking just to watch Jim gasp, eyes widening, hips moving of their own accord.

Jim surprised him though, "No. Tonight I want you to let me do the work for you."

Mario licked his lips, _loving that idea_ , but shook his head, "Jim, I can't let you-"

"We're already past the red word thing. It happens. That's what it's for. _I don't care_. Let me do this for you, you do so much for me."

Mario sighed and pressed his cheek to Jim's chest, arms sliding up his back to tug him closer, "You do so much for _me_ , Jim, I couldn't even explain it..."

"You don't have to tonight." Jim smiled, and pulled Mario's head away from his chest tenderly.

Jim reached behind his back and sought out Mario's hands, pulling them away and around until they were pressed against the back of the couch, one wrist pinned on either side of his head.

"Let me, please?"

Mario smirked, "You always beg so prettily, you know I can't say no."

Jim beamed, tipping his head to kiss Mario again, softer this time, sweet and unrushed, "I always thought the first time we had sex would be rough and fast. I'd have been seducing you for hours until you finally caved and just shoved me down... but I think I like this better."

"I'll push you down next time. It really wouldn't take hours of seducing though," Mario smiled, letting his hands fall limply at his sides while Jim reached between them to work his belt loose, "I would ask if you fantasized about us having sex often, but I'm sure you do."

Grinning, Jim pulled the belt free and brought one of Mario's hands up to wrap the leather around.

Mario raised an eyebrow, "You're going to tie _me_ up, huh?"

Jim's lips stretched wider, and he pulled the arm behind Mario's back before reaching around to attach the other side. "Yes I am."

"Yuck it up while you can. I won't let you do it often."

Jim turned his face to peck a quick kiss to Mario's cheek before continuing on his mission, fumbling with the buckle to keep the makeshift cuffs in place behind his back. "You indulge me."

"Always."

He kissed Mario's cheek again, "I like that about you."

Mario smiled, tugging a little on the leather to test its strength, "You're still talking, we could be kissing. Or you could be doing other things with that mouth."

Jim smirked down at him, a look mischievous enough to make Mario a little restless in his restraints. Jim trailed a finger down the doctor's chest, starting from just below his jaw and trailing the neckline. Mario closed his eyes, let himself feel each little touch, the drag, listened to Jim's excited intake of breath.

In a flash the touch was gone, as was Jim. He opened his eyes again to see him crouched down in front of the duffel, rummaging around for something and giving Mario a spectacular view of his backside in the meantime. "I could get used to that." he said, cockily.

Jim scoffed, smirking over his shoulder before standing, a bottle of lubricant in hand.

"You've tied my hands. How am I supposed to help you with-"

"You're not." Jim said, grinning, and seated himself on the coffee table just in front of Mario.

Mario's eyes widened as Jim uncapped the lube, squeezing a generous amount into his hand before replacing the lid and setting it aside. He turned then, knees back on the floor and chest over the table. His legs were spread out on either side of Mario's, giving him a tantalizing view as he circled his fingertips around the hole, lube dripping down from his palm and onto his skin as he did.

Mario groaned, finally understanding Jim's restraints.

The first finger was easy, and Jim only spent three thrusts bothering with it before adding a second. The press of that one make him moan, cheek pressed to the flat surface of his table, one hand holding his cheeks open while the other pressed inside. It was a wildly hot sight and Mario was starting to regret having let Jim take control.

"Jesus..."

Jim laughed, soft and breathless, and added a third.

Mario let the register of his voice drop to a low growl as he watched, toes curling in his shoes. He was still mostly clothed, looking down at Jim, completely nude and fingering himself open, and the _power_ implied by that set his skin alight with a fire of desire. "Jim." he said, gravely and a little wrecked, "Either let me out of this or get up here and ride me."

Jim whined, but stayed where he was, even daring to press in a fourth finger, possibly just to watch Mario squirm. _The little bastard._

" _Jim_."

"Be- _ah_... be patient."

Mario moaned, kicked his feet further apart to try and relieve some of the strain of his erection, trapped between his legs. The movement simultaneously jarred Jim, knocking his thighs further apart and bringing him down unexpectedly onto his fingers, just a little deeper than before. He gasped, let out a long, strained groan, and lifted from the chest to smile over his shoulder at Mario, who was _very_ quickly losing his patience.

"Gordon. _Get your ass up here,_ or so help me God, I will dislocate my thumbs getting out of this and _make you_."


	6. Chapter 6

Jim did eventually relent. The key word here being _eventually_. It was only after Mario made a show of readjusting his arms to make it look like he was serious about following through with his threats to break his thumbs that Jim panicked and came scrambling back up into his lap to rescue him.

"Stop that! You need your hands, _you're a doctor_."

Slick dribbles of lube dripped down Jim's naked thigh and onto Mario's still clothed lap. The wet spot on his leg made him shift, the fabric turning coarse against his skin. It was incredibly lewd, in its own way, and Mario was all the more impatient after feeling it; imagining Jim open and just waiting for him like that... Leaking over his leg like some desperate creature...

"Jim." he said, terse and gravely, the depth of his tone even surprising himself.

Jim fumbled with where he had been unfastening the belt, a small sound coming up from his throat before his eyes found Mario's, "...Yes?"

" _Untie me._ "

He gulped, hastily setting back to work on the belt again, "I- _Jesus_ , I was _in the middle_ of doing that-"

"Go faster."

Another desperate sound, and Jim was, in fact, just a little quicker in his movements.

The moment the belt was loose enough to gain some leverage, Mario practically ripped his hands out and in front of himself, taking Jim by the hips and _lifting_. Jim yelped. He turned them, depositing Jim onto his back, the material of the leathery couch almost sticky against his naked, sweaty back. Mario's pants were still unzipped from earlier, so it only took a minimal effort to pull himself out from the confines of his boxers to line up with the wet, inviting hole presented before him.

Jim made an absolutely _ridiculous_ , lewd sound, causing Mario to pitch forward, teeth at his neck, ready to bite and claim-Mario was reminded of when he'd fantasized about putting marks on Jim like this... when he'd taken himself in hand and jerked off to the very thought. He groaned, bit down and swallowed up Jim's loud wail.

Jim was grinding forward, back down and against Mario, trying to entice him inside finally- _finally_.

" _Mario_ -"

"I know." he said, "I've got you."

Jim whimpered when he pushed in, eyes shutting and mouth dripping with saliva, arms coming down from up above his head to coil around Mario's shoulders.

 _Christ_ , neither of them were going to last long at all.

Mario set a quick pace, aiming to drive in as far as he could, thrusting in until Jim was a gasping, desperate mess beneath him. He moaned, groaned, and every other obscenity under the moon. Sweating against the couch, Jim was a wrecked piece of work, writhing around and stretching his neck so that Mario had an easier time nipping at the freshly marred skin there.

Mario took and took, high on the pure trust Jim gave him as he went lax, doing nothing but making encouraging noises and gestures. He willingly ate up everything Mario gave him like he'd been absolutely starving for even just a _little_ affection. Mario set out to offer him a feast in reward. He lavished Jim with praise, little kisses, bites, smacks at his outer thigh where Mario gripped him for leverage. He licked at the underside of Jim's ear and reveled in the delighted shiver he got in reply.

He eventually came to the sight of Jim tipping his head all the way back, pale throat exposed in submission and a terribly blissed out expression on his face as cum splattered up between them and onto their chests.

Some dirty, scandalous part of Mario wanted lean down and lick every last drop from Jim's body...

Or better yet, pull out and flip him over to suck his own seed from Jim's abused backside.

Wouldn't that be the ultimate picture of a claim? Because Mario had.

Jim was his.

"Wow... that..."

Mario hummed tiredly, still sort of running around a series of deliciously perverted ideas in his head.

"Bed?" Jim offered helpfully when Mario let his head lean against Jim's collar bone.

Again he merely hummed, and let Jim tap his shoulder, lead him up and off from the couch, and into bed.

* * *

Mario woke up in unfamiliar surroundings, the light peeking through the dusty window forcing him to squint and a heavy body draped over his side preventing him from sitting up.

He snorted. Jim lay with his mouth hung open, drooling on Mario's chest and snoring just a little on each inhale. He looked lax and near vulnerable like that, blissfully off in the land of sleep. "Jim." he grinned, shaking his arm gently until Jim groaned and rolled around a bit, "I've got to get up to shower and dress for work, Jim."

"Call in sick." he grumbled, flinging his arm out over the rest of Mario's torso.

He chortled, "I'm a doctor. We don't call in when we're not sick." Mario tried to sit up, but when it didn't work he resorted to more direct tactics, poking Jim in the side, "That's probably why your department is so slow to respond. Is skipping work just because you want to a detective thing?"

"'S a _people_ thing." Jim argued, but blinked his eyes slowly awake. "Not my fault you can't lie about being sick to another doc."

"C'mon." he encouraged, trying to lift Jim off of him, "Let's get up."

"Or we could just stay here." Jim smiled, and rolled over a little more, full body now encasing Mario, one leg slipped between his.

"I've got to get up, Jim."

"...Stay."

Mario was about to argue again, to tell Jim that he couldn't just stay in bed all morning, but Jim stole his words away with a kiss. Sloppy, a little tainted with bland morning breath, but still pleasant nevertheless. Mario let his hand settle over Jim's hip, rubbing the skin lightly as they kissed. Jim pressed closer, deepening the kiss and setting off Mario's lust. His soft touch turned into a grip, dragging Jim forward until they were flush together, groping at his ass until Jim pulled back to hiss.

Mario blinked, "Oh, _shit_ , right. Last night-"

"It's nothing. Just a little soreness. We both know I can handle it."

Mario shook his head before tapping Jim's hip, "No, you're going to let me check you out this morning. I didn't get to last night." He added, chidingly.

Jim groaned, rolling off of Mario and onto his back in the bed, watching him stand, naked as the day he was born. Jim smirked, "Nice view."

He snorted, coming back with a squeeze-tube of ointment, "Alright, turn over Casanova."

"Say pretty please."

"Jim." he said instead, letting his voice drop low.

Jim opened one eye, cheeks just a _little_ pink. He didn't say anything as he rolled obediently, but he did hum appreciatively when Mario rewarded him with a purred-out "good boy".

Mario spent some time simply running his hands over the welts, taking in every bruise, bite mark and the places where he might have been a little too hard. Thankfully it didn't look like any skin had broken the previous night. He popped open the tube anyway. Even if there weren't any cuts, the cream would help soothe the sting in his skin. It wouldn't take away the deep rooted pain that went bone deep, but that was perfectly fine. That was the part Jim liked best, anyway.

He rubbed the cream back and forth in his hands a few times to warm it before bringing his hands down gently over Jim's skin.

Jim hissed initially, flinching away from the first sting of contact, but he calmed quickly, relaxing his muscles once more so that Mario could work. Mario rewarded him with a pleased hum. He thought about bending forward to kiss the naked expanse of Jim's back... but he had priorities this time. It was his job to care for Jim first and foremost.

He massaged the aching skin carefully, doing his best to work into the bruises without elevating the sting. Beneath him, Jim groaned appreciatively.

"It doesn't look like I broke skin." Mario said conversationally.

Jim hummed, "Next time."

Mario snorted, "It's a _good_ thing, Jim. Less sting, no cuts; no possibility of infection or you reopening a wound on your ass at work." he chuckled then, "Imagine how awkward _that_ would be to explain."

"Harvey would go into cardiac arrest."

"His eating habits will see to that just fine without your help, Jim. That mean doesn't take care of himself at all."

Jim grinned, "I'll tell him you said that."

Mario, more out of habit than any real insult, gave Jim a quick smack on the left cheek, watching, mezmorized, as Jim squirmed beneath his hand. The quick jerk away from his slap resulted in a rather lewd grind into the bedsheets, Jim's ass, previously pink, shimmering from the cream and wiggling around with his movement... it was like a little 'time to wake up' poke to Mario's (slowly becoming _very_ interested) cock.

Jim groaned, low and throaty before peeking over his shoulder at Mario, pouting, "Ow..." he said, but it was such a sultry little complaint, filled with everything _but_ actual dislike.

Mario grabbed a handful of his cheek, right over where he'd slapped, gripping tightly and drinking in Jim's whimpering pleasure.

"Mmmmh... you said you had to get ready..."

"You're the one that started..."

Jim guffawed, " _You_ hit _me!"_

" _You_ moaned and started fucking the sheets."

Another rumbling moan tumbled out of Jim's mouth, and Mario thought it would be an absolute waste if he didn't do a little something about his partner's obvious state of arousal. One of his fingers, still slick with cream, took a detour from the smoothe crevice of his ass cheek, slipping down and over, pushing flesh aside until Mario was pressing into Jim's hole, butter-soft and gagging for something _thicker_ -more substantial than a _finger_.

Mario groaned, Jim echoed him.

One finger became two by the second dip inside, and Mario leaned up and over Jim's body to kiss at his neck, his shoulders, any bit of skin he could reach...

"Mario..." Jim sighed, rocking back onto his fingers as best he could, accounting for Mario's body pressed against his own.

"I don't have time to take a shower anymore, so I'm not going to fuck you..." Mario said, and Jim whimpered, thrusting backward more eagerly than before, "But I might have time to make you cum on my fingers like this. Think you can do that for me?"

Jim clenched the sheet into his fists, bringing some fabric up to his mouth and looking like he wanted to bite down. He shook his head, but continued to writhe.

"No?" Mario asked, voice soft, cajoling, "Should I stop? If you don't think you can..."

Jim pressed back with much more urgency, shaking his head again, more desperate, "No, please just-"

"Be good, Jim." Mario said gently, practically murmuring into his ear, "Cum on my fingers for me."

Mario had never heard such a lewd responding sound in all of his life. It egged him on, made him want to do more-give Jim what he wanted. Mario wanted to call in after all; spend the morning fucking Jim into the mattress and helping him make more delicious little noises. Mario wanted to cuff Jim to the headboard and leave him there when he was done, sat across from Jim with his legs forced open so that Mario could watch his own cum seep out of Jim's weeping hole...

Mario thought he might orgasm without even touching himself; just from letting his imagination run rampant like it was.

Jim whimpered, pressing back onto four fingers now, greedy and _so_ so needy.

Mario absolutely loved it.

" _Fuck_." Mario grunted out, and wrapped a desperate hand around his own cock.

Jim gasped when Mario's fingers twitched, unintentionally crooking upwards and making Jim see stars. " _Shit._ "

"Come Jim-" Mario ordered through a bitten lip, "Fuck, I'm gonna come on your back. You'll be even more marked up, Jim. My cum- _shit_."

Jim spasmed against the sheets, writhing back onto Mario's fingers and forward against the cotton. He yelled into the pillow, a wet, bastardization of Mario's name drawn out in a slew of desperate staccatos.

Mario followed shortly after, forcing himself up onto his knees so that he could watch his cum stripe up and along the line of Jim's back, coating the bruises and angry red marks, Mario's hickeys, all of it. Jim was the very picture of debauchery. He looked over his shoulder and up at Mario, grinning wide and drunkenly.

 _Shit._

Jim tried to roll around, but Mario caught his arm and stilled him in the middle of his mouth straining for Mario's softening cock.

Lifting his eyes in a manner too pleading to be truly innocent, Jim jutted out his lip, "I want to..."

"Not this morning."

Jim made a discontent noise. "I want to take care of you..."

"Last night was for me," he said plainly, "this morning was about you."

"It's not like I didn't also enjoy last night too..." Jim pouted, and Mario simply smiled.

"It's not like _I_ didn't enjoy _that._ " he shot back.

Jim huffed, "Okay, fine." he nudged Mario sweetly, "But when you're back form work, I _really_ want you to fuck my face..."

 _Jim Gordon was going to be the death of him._

He coughed, "O-kay. Deal."

Jim beamed at him, leaned forward, and kissed his lips gently. "Work?"

"Mmm, yeah. I should really get ready for that." Mario hummed, but leaned into Jim's simple press, running a hand softly up Jim's arm.

He chuckled, "Is this what you're going to be like? Now that we're..."

"We're?"

"Now that we're whatever we are."

Mario snorted, "What are we supposed to be?"

Jim shrugged, frowning, "I don't know. I guess we don't have to be anything. I mean-"

Mario stopped him immediately. "We're definitely something, Jim. Don't worry about that."

He smiled appreciatively, "Okay."

Nudging his arm softly, Mario encouraged him to pick up where he'd left off, "What were you thinking of?"

"I don't know? ...boyfriends? Or something." he covered quickly, glancing away.

"Boyfriends?" Mario smirked.

Jim swatted at him with a chuckle, "I don't know! I'm all gooey right now. Don't ask me these big questions. I mean... Maybe we should just be patient. This _is_ really fresh..."

Mario frowned, "Maybe it's just because I'm with you and feeling especially dominant, but I _really_ want you to be mine. Whatever 'title' it takes to have that, I don't really care, but I'm not very interested in waiting for it."

Jim gushed, smiling wide before his mouth dropped, "You really think you'll be okay if we don't wait at all? I mean... Your relationship only ended _literally_ the other day..."

Mario shook his head, "No, my relationship with Lee ended a long time ago. I spent a lot of time trying to just... be content with her. I thought I could fix it if I just tried hard enough... but fighting so hard for something I _knew_ would be mediocre and unsatisfying really wasn't the right idea. Love is... supposed to be more fulfilling, right? I don't have to try hard with you. It's easy to just be myself. Waiting to say were 'dating' won't make any difference in terms of how I feel about you."

Jim made a face, one that was entirely too smart and giggly for Mario's taste. He narrowed his eyes, "What?"

"All I'm gonna say is that _you_ used the L word first."

Mario blinked, incredulous, then scoffed, "You're taking that out of context. I didn't admit to anything and I demand that it's stricken from the record."

"You said it first."

"I didn't _say_ it to you, Jim."

"Oh come on, it's obvious you're _just_ as in love with me."

"I'm sorry," Mario interrupted, a brilliantly bright smile plastered all over his face, " _W_ _hat was that now?_ "

Jim stalled, eyes going a little wide as he caught his own faux pas. His cheeks pinked with embarrassment, "I plead the fifth."

"Nuh uh, you can't pull that bullshit with me. _You_ love _me_ , don't you?"

"I have the right to remain silent..."

"Jim."

"If 'anything I say will be held against me', does that mean I can say your-"

"Finish that sentence, Jim, and I'll punish you." Mario snapped playfully, "Say it."

Jim grinned, "Is that supposed to be a threat?"

"I'll punish you in ways you won't like." he reiterated.

"Oh, yeah?"

"I've been looking into it, since you like so many of the things I would _normally_ punish you with. I hear orgasm denial is fun. How does a cock ring sound? I'll make you wear one _all fucking day_. Maybe even into work... with a plug. You think your partner would notice if you-?"

"Alright! Alright, I give in, _I love you_." Jim laughed, lifting his hands in surrender.

Mario smiled, "If it's any consolation... I think I might be getting there myself. You're _extremely_ irritating and just as frustrating, but also really easy to fall for." he sighed, pulled Jim closer, and kissed his swollen lips.

Jim grinned, "I'm going to make you say the L word if it kills me."

"Scheming will result in cock rings. Just remember that."

"I'll trick you into saying it while I'm riding you." Jim said, and kissed his cheek, "You won't even realize it was me and my boyish charm swindling you out of it."

"Or you could let me do you one better." Mario smiled, and nipped the underside of Jim's jaw in return, "Wouldn't a sordid romantic like yourself prefer I take you out on a date? Flowers and wine, the whole deal? I'd say it then, watch you go pink in public. I haven't gotten to do that yet and I _really_ want to."

Jim chuckled, wrapping his arms around Mario's neck happily, "My devious doctor sadist returns to fight dirty."

"I fight to win."

He nodded, "I'll think about it." Jim brought his forehead lightly to Mario's, "In the meantime, I have to get to work on making you fall in love with me too."

Mario grinned, and went easily as Jim led him away from the bed, off into the shower to prepare for a new day. He'd wind up late for work today, but it would be worth it. The moment they were naked and pressed together under the pittering pattern of spraying water, Jim set to work on doing just that; 'making' Mario falling in love with him.

Mario smiled, happy for the first time in a long time.

 _You really won't have to try very hard._


End file.
